


Sutter Creek

by expectingtofly



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Western, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bandits & Outlaws, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Brotherly Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel and Dean Winchester Falling in Love, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Eventual Fluff, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Minor Injuries, Minor Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Minor Ruby/Sam Winchester, Mutual Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sharing a Room, Slow Burn, Villain Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:35:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 66,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22399444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/expectingtofly/pseuds/expectingtofly
Summary: The year is 1851 and Dean Winchester has finally found steady work after striking out during the gold rush and roaming aimlessly in the three years since his pa died. But when his brother Sam is threatened by the Marauders, a notorious band of outlaws, Dean must drop all and come to his rescue. As he and Sam try to evade the Marauders, they run into someone from Dean’s past and Dean realizes his life will truly never be the same again.Cas Novak has been plagued with nightmares and a desire for vengeance ever since a fateful day involving the Marauders. When he chances upon a familiar face—one he never expected to see again—he seizes the opportunity to finally get revenge on the outlaws. But with this unexpected encounter comes more than he ever bargained for.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 41
Kudos: 40
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Lonesome to the Bone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sutter Creek is the culmination of 5 months of work (!!) but I had so much fun creating it. I hope you enjoy reading this western tale as much as I did writing it :)
> 
> [Playlist](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLjc3wphLX9c0Or9xRmKaVZIo8578Xbj62) of western-style songs which inspired the story and the chapter titles

_There you stood on the edge of your feather_   
_expecting to fly_

_…_

_By the summer it was healing_   
_we had said goodbye_

_…_

  
_I tried so hard to stand_   
_as I stumbled and fell to the ground_   
_so hard to laugh as I fumbled_   
_and reached for the love I found_   
_knowing it was gone_   
_If I never lived without you_   
_now you know I'd die_   
_If I never said I loved you_   
_now you know I'd try_

_Expecting to Fly - Buffalo Springfield_

A cool breeze scattered dust and pebbles along the dry desert floor. The canyon ridges were deep ebon forms jutting out of the landscape. Pinpricks of white starlight seemed to pierce the night sky.

Tucker snorted and his breath wisped into the air. His ears twitched as his hooves crunched on dry brittle clumps of grass and the rough ground.

Dean tucked his left hand into his coat and clenched and unclenched his right hand holding Tucker’s reins. The cool night had been welcome at first after a sweltering day of constant riding. Now, though, the cold was stiffening his limbs. In other circumstances, he would stop, set up camp, and get some rest, but a gnawing worry kept him in the saddle.

He went over the letter again in his mind. He’d read it so many times, he didn’t need to draw the worn page from his pack. The letter had arrived a week ago, but the date at the top was marked three weeks prior. He’d hardly read the last word before throwing his few personal items in his pack and saddling up Tucker.

The letter was from Sam. It was brief, sparse, only making him more worried about the details missing. In the letter, Sam explained he’d been prosecuting Kip Wilson, a man who was part of the notorious gang the Marauders. He’d won the case and the man was sentenced to hang, but the Marauders busted him out of jail and were looking for revenge, causing Sam to go—as he wrote—“on the lam."

Dean shook his head. Sam wrote his letters like they were school compositions. He’d complained more than once about Dean’s scribbled, misspelled letters, written in a hurry after long days of herding cattle. 

Dean took off his hat and ran his hand through his short hair. “On the lam.” And from the Marauders, no less. If either of them were to get mixed up in something like this, he would’ve reckoned it would be himself, not do-gooder Sam. Sam, settled in Windrixville with steady lawyer work, married to a sweet local girl named Jessica. Dean hoped they were both alright. Sam’s letter said he would be waiting for Dean at Bobby’s. And then they’d see what was to be done.

***

Bobby, an old friend of their pa, lived miles from any town, in an old cabin in a brief patch of woods. As Dean grew closer, so did his trepidation. There was no guarantee Sam would even be here. Something could have happened...Dean nudged Tucker on. Sam had a good head on his shoulders. He’d be fine. He had to be. 

Dean spotted the cabin a few miles after entering the woods. Bobby appeared at the front door when he pulled Tucker to a stop in front of the dilapidated porch.

“Dean!” Bobby called. “Good to see you, son.” He pulled Dean into an embrace as Dean walked up the front steps.

“Hey Bobby,” Dean said. He peered into the darkness of the house behind Bobby and pulled away. “Sam here?”

“Yeah,” Bobby nodded. His eyes were tired. “It ain’t good, boy.”

“Dean?” Dean looked to see Sam standing in the doorway. 

“Sammy.” Dean stepped forward and hugged his brother. Sam seemed thinner, beat-tired. Older, but maybe that was the beard—new since Dean had seen him last. Sam held onto Dean, then sniffed and pulled away. 

“Damn, it’s good to see you,” Dean said. “It’s been a while.”

“Nearly two years.”

Dean looked past Sam into the house. “Jessica here?” 

Sam seemed to shrink and Bobby put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, saying, “Let’s go sit inside.” Dean’s stomach dropped.

Sam sat hunched at the table and Bobby set cups of coffee in front of him and Dean. He sat across from Dean. “You wanna tell him, or should I?”

“I will.” Sam ran a hand through his hair, longer and shaggier than Dean remembered. “I should have never taken the case,” he began. “But I thought if we got Kip Wilson, we could get the rest of the Marauders.” He laughed bitterly. “Should have known that wouldn’t go over well. I won the case—wasn’t much of a fight. Then the Marauders rode in at night. Broke Kip out and—” He took a deep breath. “Came for me. I had fallen asleep at the office, but they didn’t know that. They went to the house where Jessica and I lived and set it on fire.” 

He traced the rim of his coffee cup. “Jessica was trapped inside and she died.” He said it flatly, staring into his coffee. Dean sucked in his breath and looked at Bobby. Bobby was watching Sam, shaking his head. “By the time the Marauders came looking for me, some friends had gotten me out of town. I hear the Marauders torched my office too, tore up half the town.” He shook his head. “So I’ve been on the run.” He met Dean’s eyes for a second, then dropped his head.

Dean could only stare at Sam, at the frayed collar of his jacket and his hunched shoulders.

Bobby cleared his throat. “Guess this is the wrong drink to be having.” He left the table and returned with a flask. He poured some in his coffee and offered it to Dean, who took a swig before holding it out to Sam, who roused himself and shook his head. 

“Been drinking too much of that shit lately.” He took a drink of his coffee.

“I’m so sorry, Sammy,” Dean said. It was painfully inadequate, but he didn’t know what he could possibly say to offer any comfort.

Sam nodded and rubbed his beard. “So I guess the question is what now.” He looked at Dean. “I was hoping you could help with that.”

“You could stay here with Bobby—”

Sam shook his head. “The Marauders might trace me here. It’s a risk for me to be here now. Sorry Bobby.”

“Ain’t no problem, boy.”

“We’ll travel together then,” Dean said. “I have, well, had, a job on a ranch. I know it’s been awhile since you’ve done anything like that, but you’ll get back into the swing of things.”

“They’ll find me out there. They’re all over the place.”

“Then we’ll keep moving around.”

“That’s not good enough.” Sam met his eyes again and this time they were fiery, intense. “I want them dead.”

“Well, no objection there,” Dean said. “but these are the Marauders we’re talking about. That’s not an easy task.”

“We can do it,” Sam said. “We’ll let them come for me and then kill them all.”

“That’d be suicide.”

Sam shrugged. “Then so be it.”

Bobby leaned forward. “You’re not thinking straight, boy. Dean’s trying to get you a way out of this mess.”

“There is no way out,” Sam said. “They started this. They killed—” He broke off and clenched his fist on the table. “They need to pay.”

“And they will, Sammy,” Dean said. “I promise. But first we need to, I don’t know, regroup. Get you to a somewhat safe place. And look at you.” He gestured at Sam. “You’re in no condition for a fight.”

Sam scoffed and pushed his chair back from the table. He left out the back door, the hinges squeaking in protest and the door snapping shut behind him.

Dean sighed and looked at Bobby. “Never thought it’d be me convincing Sam to back out of a fight.”

“He’ll come around. He’s lost a lot in a short amounta time.”

Dean pressed a hand to his temple. “I’ll take care of him, Bobby. I will.”

“I know, boy, I know.”

Dean found Sam leaning against a tree in Bobby’s yard, his hands plunged deep in his jacket pockets.

“I wanna kill those sons of bitches too,” Dean said, coming up next to Sam and looking out over the yard littered with scraggly trees and spare wagon parts. “Let’s just get out of here, alright? Get some space.” He looked at Sam. “And if later we have a chance to get back at the Marauders, we’ll take it. Trust me on this.”

Sam shook his head in defeat and pushed off the tree. “Alright.” He glanced at Dean and shrugged. “Fine.”

Dean clapped his hand down on Sam’s shoulder. “We’ll get going tomorrow.”

Sam nodded. He cleared his throat. “Thank you for coming.”

“Of course. I always show up to save your ass.” He worried for a moment that Sam would take offense, but Sam smiled faintly. 

Dean and Sam left Bobby’s early the next morning when the sun had begun to lighten the sky but wasn’t yet visible above the horizon. They rode in silence. The only noises disturbing the quiet dawn were the scrapes of their horses’ hooves on the ground and the jingle of the reins. 

Dean wondered how to break the silence, how to find ways to distract Sam from the utter chaos his life had become. They weren’t strangers to misery, but this was new, different. They were different. They’d been living apart for what, five years, with only brief visits in between? Why had he ever let Sam go off alone?

“So,” Sam started, jolting Dean out of his thoughts. “You haven’t told me much about what you’ve been doing all this time. Your letters left a lot to be desired.”

“Huh. Well, recently, the past few months, I’ve been working on a ranch southwest of here. Tough work, but it’s steady pay. Searching for a gold was a bust, as you know. I wouldn’t be living like this if I had struck it big.”

“You never found anything at all?”

Dean shook his head. “It was chaos out there.” He grinned. “Sutter Creek, the area I was panning, was always busy, a lot of saloons. Always some fight going on. Not your type of scene.”

Sam shook his head. “Guess you had fun.”

“Yeah.” Dean shrugged. “I dunno, I had to get away from it all after a bit. Didn’t want to get tangled up in anything serious.” He felt his face flush, and he pulled his hat down lower. “I met some people who knew Pa, actually.”

“Really?”

“One worked with him on a cattle run. Another was a bartender where Pa was shot. Saw the whole thing go down.”

“No, seriously?”

Sam looked at him and Dean regretted having brought up a sore subject. “Said Pa offended the wrong man while playing cards.”

“That’s a better scenario than what I had figured,” Sam said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, Pa was always getting in a fight. His getting killed might have happened sooner if he wasn’t such a good shot.”

“Don’t talk about Pa like that, like it was his fault.“

Sam raised his hands. “Sorry.”

They were silent again and Dean cursed himself. Not even a day together and they were already bickering. In an attempt to change the subject, he pointed to the ridge they were riding towards. 

“We’ll reach the next town tomorrow, where we can get supplies. Where’s the last place you heard of the Marauders being?”

“Somewhere east of here. Held up a train, I think.”

“Well, let’s hope they stay over there until we can get a head start.” Dean glanced at Sam. “You have any run-ins with them since Windrixville?” He had noticed bruising on Sam’s arms and chest when he was changing the night before. 

“No, not with them.” Sam shifted in his saddle. “The last month...well.” He laughed without humor. “I guess I haven’t been myself. Probably acted more like Pa than anything.”

“You’ve been through plenty,” Dean said. Then they lapsed into silence again.

When they stopped for the night, Sam took care of the horses while Dean made a fire and started cooking dinner. 

Coming back from the trees where he’d tied the horses, Sam sat on the ground and rubbed his shoulder, wincing. 

“What’s that from?” Dean poured a can of beans into the tin saucepan on top of the bed of coals. 

“Cheated during poker and got found out.”

“Getting rusty, huh?”

“S’pose so.” Sam looked up at the sky, which had turned a deep purple. 

Dean glanced at Sam but didn’t say anything else. He’d been wary all day, afraid Sam would burst into tears or something, but Sam seemed to have moved beyond that. Now he was too silent, with a cold edge Dean wasn’t used to seeing.

“Here.” He handed Sam a can of stew.

“I haven’t eaten great in a long time,” Sam said, picking up the spoon.

“When are you going to learn how to cook?” Dean leaned against his bedroll and stretched his legs, stiff after the long ride.

“Never had to,” Sam said. “There was always someone to do it for me.”

They retired to bed soon after, spreading their bedrolls close to the fire to keep warm. Dean heard Sam moving around and knew they’d both have trouble sleeping.

The weight of taking care of Sammy was a familiar one. Even when their Pa was alive he was distant, and it had fallen on Dean to make sure Sam was fed, taken care of. That responsibility had lightened when they grew older and parted ways, himself to the West, Sam to an apprenticeship with a lawyer back East. But without Sam, and later without Pa, the loneliness had threatened to become more than the camaraderie of other ranch hands or the services of prostitutes could ease.

He had often thought about joining Sam. But Sam’s life was foreign to him. The nomadic, odd job life was the only one he knew, what he was raised to do, and he had done well. Chasing the madness of the gold rush had been a mistake. For a moment, he had almost thought he could have something different—but that was in the past. He didn’t know why he was even thinking of it.

Dean rolled over to stare at the low fire. The responsibility of caring for Sam was back. But Sam would be fine. Everything would work out. He shut his eyes and willed himself to sleep. 

***

The owner of the general store held the bill Dean gave him to the light then lowered it and frowned at him.

“It’s real, ain’t it?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” the man said begrudgingly, tucking the bill into a box and placing it under the counter. Dean rolled his eyes at Sam. They had reached this town late afternoon and Dean had wanted Sam to make camp a few miles out and stay away, while Sam argued they shouldn’t separate. Dean gave in, on the condition they got in and out quickly.

“Too many counterfeits these days and stolen money.” The store owner shook his head. “Swear there’s more crooks around these parts every day.”

“It’s a shame,” Dean agreed, shoveling his purchases into his pack. “Thank you much.” He nodded at the man and he and Sam left the store. Loud laughter drew his eyes to the saloon across the street. He sighed and hefted his pack onto his shoulder. 

“We could stop,” Sam said. “Just for one drink.”

“Nah, we better keep moving,” Dean said. “Don’t want to make an impression on anyone. Come on.”

They untied their horses from the hitching post. Dean smiled at the woman perched on the saloon’s porch trying to attract customers.

“You boys comin’ in?” she called.

“I wish,” Dean muttered. 

“Dean,” Sam whispered. “I recognize that man.”

“Who?” 

“Outside the saloon, with the mustache—wait, don’t look.”

Dean swore and threw his pack onto Tucker. “I told you—”

“Don’t say it. He’s not part of the Marauders, it’s fine.” Sam mounted his horse Mickey and pulled his hat down lower.

“Who the fuck is he, then? Will he recognize you?” 

“Let’s just get out of town.”

Dean mounted Tucker and, as they rode past the saloon, snuck a glance at the man who was leaning against the front porch, smoking and talking to one of the girls.

Once they got out of town, Sam spoke up. “That man was arrested for theft and held in the Windrixville jail for a few days. I never spoke to him, though.”

“Well, let’s hope he doesn’t have a great memory.” Dean knew Sam was worried by the way he was wringing his reins. “We’ll keep moving, get a few miles away before we set up camp.” He looked up at the sky, where in the west a large grey cloud was looming. “Before this storm sets in.”

When they stopped, it was dark, the stars and moon obscured by heavy clouds, the air humid. They decided against a fire and laid out their bedrolls. Dean dug in his pack for food, but he couldn’t stop looking in the direction of the town, hoping there were no riders headed towards them. He doubted he’d be able to see them if there were any. 

Sam plopped onto the ground next to Dean. “Maybe we should keep moving.”

Dean worried his lip and looked at the sky. “It’s about to storm. It’s bad enough lying out here in the open.”

Sam ran his hand through his hair. “You’re right. I’m just on edge.”

“We’ll take turns keeping watch and we’ll keep the horses ready in case anything happens.” Dean tossed a chunk of bread to Sam. “Even if the man did recognize you, what could he want with you?” He was trying to reassure himself just as much.

Dean took first watch. He watched Sam turn back and forth and finally settle. He doubted Sam was actually asleep. Tucker pawed at the ground and Dean stood and went to him. He ran his hand across Tucker’s coarse hair. “Sorry, boy, but we’ve got to be ready in case.” He scanned the area around them. Wind scurried the dust into whirls. Without any light from the stars or the moon it was like looking into muddy water. He hoped if anyone approached he’d be able to see a glint of metal, at least. 

He cursed himself for letting Sam go into town. Sam used to listen to him, look up to him. Now Sam fought back against anything he said.

Dean shook his head and sat back down. Thunder rumbled. They’d be soaking wet in no time. It was no good being out in the open on a night like this, with no protection from the elements. The risk of getting struck by lightning was bad enough, though he’d never actually heard tale of someone felled by a strike. 

He put on his slicker in preparation for the storm. Lightning flashed and that’s when he heard it. The faint but distinctive thud of horses’ hooves. He leapt to his feet and searched the dark landscape before him. Then lightning flashed again and he spotted three riders headed towards them from the direction of the town.

“Sam!” Dean hissed, gathering up his bedroll. Sam was on his feet in an instant. “Riders,” Dean pointed as he ran to Tucker and strapped his bedroll to his saddle. 

Sam cursed and gathered up his belongings. He swung onto Mickey and took off, Dean close behind. As Tucker gained speed, Dean looked back and saw the riders traveling faster, having spotted him and Sam.

“Shit,” he muttered and urged Tucker forward.

Thunder rumbled and the hooves behind them grew louder. A shot cracked and Dean instinctively ducked. The ground rose to their right and Sam rode up the hill, to the scattering of trees at the top which could give them some measure of cover. 

Then, a rider broke into Dean’s peripheral, edging into his path. Dean jerked his reins to avoid a collision. Tucker slowed on the uneven terrain, then reared as a second rider came on Dean’s right, boxing him in. Sam was headed off by the third rider, who pulled ahead and raised his gun at him. 

“Stop where you are!” the third rider yelled. Dean reached for his gun, but the rider on his left aimed at him.

“Hands where I can see them!” he said and Dean slowly raised his arms. His gun was heavy in its holster against his leg, but he didn’t dare grab it. The man blocking Sam’s path unhooked a lantern from his saddle and held it aloft. Dean recognized him as the mustached man outside the saloon.

“Sam Winchester,” the man said. “Knew I recognized ya when ya rode into town.” He looked at Dean. “And who might you be?” 

Dean didn’t answer. The rider on his left moved closer and Dean felt the cold steel of a pistol against his temple.

“Dean Winchester.” 

“Oh! A relation!” the mustached man crowed. “We got a pair of them! That should get us double, at least.”

“Maybe we can work something out,” Sam said. “You’re a bounty hunter, aren’t you? For the Marauders?”

“Picked up on that, huh?” the mustached man said. “‘Fraid I can’t letcha go unless you got a clean grand to hand over.” Thunder cracked overhead and Dean flinched. “Now what I want you boys to do is take off your gun belts and drop them on the ground. One wrong move and I have no problem blowing your head off. The Marauders will still pay a pretty penny for a dead Winchester.”

Dean slowly lowered his hands and began to unbuckle his gun belt. A raindrop splattered on his hand, followed by more. He caught Sam’s eye in the feeble lantern light and Sam shook his head almost imperceptibly. Dean knew Sam was right. It was too big of a risk to make a move. He dropped his gun belt on the ground. The rider on his right swung off his horse to grab it.

“That’s more like it,” the mustached man said. The end of his sentence was obscured by a shot ringing out from the trees atop the hill. The lantern swung as the mustached man tipped forward and fell off his horse.

Dean froze for a moment in surprise, then swung his arm against the hand holding a gun to his head. It went flying and Dean swung off Tucker. The crack of a rifle went off and he ducked as Tucker neighed and reared. The lantern the mustached man had dropped rolled on the ground, casting long shadows. 

He straightened, but before he could get his bearings, he was on his back, his legs kicked out from under him. Someone clambered on top of him and began throwing punches at his head. Dean managed to knee the man in the stomach, shoving him off. He reached for his gun, then curled up to protect his head as a horse thundered past and a shot rang out. 

Leaping to his feet, he squinted in the rain now falling more intensely. In a flash of lightning, he saw Sam pinned to the ground as a man beat him. Dean ran and tackled the man. He punched blindly, feeling the man’s face crack under his fists. Another shot rang out, then a voice yelled something Dean couldn’t make out. Someone grabbed him and Dean struggled. 

“Dean, come on!” Realizing it was Sam, Dean stopped resisting. “The rest are dead, let’s go!” He stumbled to his feet and Sam let go of him. 

Sam grabbed Mickey’s reins and pulled himself onto his saddle. Dean wiped rainwater off his face and looked for Tucker. Then he saw a man atop a horse, holding the lantern. “Here,” the man said, holding out Dean’s gun. 

Dean hesitated, realizing this must be the man who had fired from the trees. “And who the hell are you?” he asked, trying to discern the man’s face through the shadows and rain.

Instead of answering, the man raised Dean’s gun and fired over Dean’s shoulder. Dean flinched and swung around. The man he had beaten was lying motionless behind him, blood seeping through a fresh bullet wound in his cheek. Dean turned back to the man on the horse.

“Follow me!” the man called, tossing Dean his gun. The light from the lantern briefly illuminated the man’s face, half obscured under his hat and Dean nearly dropped his gun. He watched the man begin to ride away. Sam glanced at Dean before following him. Dean spotted Tucker pawing the ground a few feet away and ran to him. 

He rode after Sam and the man, straining to see the yellow light of the lantern through the downpour. The wind sprayed rain into his eyes and he hunched over Tucker. 

His heart was pounding. But it wasn’t solely because of the fight. That man, that voice. But it couldn’t be. He urged Tucker faster. 

The rain wouldn’t let up, but Dean could tell the terrain was changing as they rode. He heard the man leading them yell something, then the lantern grew closer, swaying in place. Dean pulled Tucker to a stop next to Mickey. The man pointed to his left and Dean saw a cabin tucked in a grove of trees. They swung off their horses and the man led them to a small three-walled stable. 

Dean unsaddled Tucker and tried to get another look at the man, but he couldn’t see his face. The rain pounding on the roof was too loud to speak, so Dean grabbed his pack off Tucker and followed Sam and the man out of the barn to the cabin. 

Inside the cabin, it was cold and dark. The man put his lantern on a table against the far wall and set to lighting another on a small chest next to a bed, his back to Sam and Dean. The warm light illuminated the small room—the extent of the cabin. Dean’s heartbeat quickened as the man turned and looked at them. 

The man removed his hat and raised his clear blue eyes to Dean’s. Dean swallowed. It was him. It was Cas.

_"Sam Winchester," the man said. “Knew I recognized ya when ya rode into town.”_

Source: Adventure Magazine 1920-11-03

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Tumblr Post for this fic](https://expectingtofly.tumblr.com/post/190606923984/a-destiel-au-western-fanfiction-link)  
> and you can find [my tumblr here](https://expectingtofly.tumblr.com/)


	2. Saddle Tramp

Cas had thought his eyes were playing tricks on him when he spotted Dean riding past the saloon in town. He’d nearly turned away from the window back to his drink and disregarded the vision altogether. But here Dean was, standing in front of him. Unable to speak, he stood still, waiting for Dean to react.

“Cas?” Dean asked. His voice wavered.

Cas ducked his head and nodded. He looked at Dean again. “Wasn’t sure you’d recognize me.” He tried to read Dean’s expression. Was he angry?

Dean’s brother Sam looked back and forth between them. A bruise was blooming under his eye and his lip was split. “Wait, you guys know each other?”

Dean shifted his feet and cleared his throat. “Yeah, we were both in Sutter Creek during the gold rush.” His eyes flitted to Cas’s, met them for a second. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Cas shrugged. “Gold rush didn’t pan out. I’ve been traveling all over.” He looked at Sam. “I read about your case in the paper and recognized you in town. I overheard those bounty hunters talking about their plans to ambush you so I thought I’d ride out to help.”

“Yeah, thanks for that,” Sam said. He was watching Dean and an uneasy silence followed.

Cas watched Dean look around the cabin. Water dropped to the ground from his slicker, dark from the rain saturating it. He had a feeling Dean was avoiding his eyes.

“You live here?” Dean asked. 

“No,” Cas replied. “I just knew it was here. The owner’s been dead for years.” Suddenly restless, realizing he was freezing and his clothes were clinging to him heavily, he pulled off his slicker. He looked at Sam. “I doubt anyone in town will be missing those bounty hunters, but if the Marauders get word you were here, they’ll come after you.”

“Right,” Sam said. He looked Dean. “We’ll leave early. Get as far away as we can.” Dean nodded. 

Cas draped his slicker and coat over one of the two chairs around the table. Should he ask them? He looked at Dean. His white button-down shirt was smeared with mud on the collar and it clung to his skin, almost see-through against his chest.

Looking away, Cas turned to Sam. “I heard about what the Marauders did to you,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”

Sam nodded sharply. “They’ll pay for it.” he said. 

“I’m out to get revenge on them myself,” Cas said. “One of the reasons I was following your case.” He fiddled with the buttons on his left shirt cuff. “I was figuring we might be able to help each other.”

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but Dean interjected, “No.” Cas looked at him in surprise. “We’re not on a revenge mission.”

“Dean,” Sam started, “you said yourself, if we ever got the chance—”

“I said, first you need to get back on your feet before we start a fight.”

"I know all about the Marauders,” Cas broke in. “Where they hide out, their spies—”

“See!” Sam pointed at Cas. “This is our chance!” He turned to Cas. “What do you know?”

“I know that there’s quite a few Marauders, but they’re scattered throughout the region and are rarely all together. There’s one leader who calls the shots. Abigail Dawn. What nobody knows, though, is the gang’s got a secret hideout. They’d never expect an attack there.”

“No,” Dean said, shaking his head. Sam looked at him. “No!”

“Dean, listen—”

“Can I talk to you outside? Alone?” Dean grabbed Sam’s arm and pushed him out the cabin door. It shut with a bang.

Cas turned away from the door. _So that’s how it is_ , he thought. He had known he should stay away. Had he really thought…? He shook his head and began to root around in the cabin for matches.

Dean shut the door behind him and Sam. The thunder had stopped, but rain still pounded the earth. He pressed himself against the cabin wall under the porch awning to avoid the spray of rain cast sideways by the wind. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Sam asked. “He can help.”

“We agreed to get you somewhere safe before making any plans to get revenge.”

“There is nowhere safe! You saw what just happened. It’s not only the Marauders after me, it could be anyone. We might have been killed if Cas didn’t jump in.”

“Yeah, about that. So Cas saw us in town and trailed us, waiting until we got jumped?” Dean crossed his arms. “I don’t trust him.”

“You said you knew him.”

“I didn’t know him well. And that was over a year ago. For all we know, he could be working for the Marauders.”

Sam scoffed. “That doesn’t make any sense. He helped us tonight, right?”

“He might be a bounty hunter leading us into a trap.” From the little he knew of Cas, though, he didn’t really believe it. He worried Sam might see as much as Sam stared him down.

“Be honest,” Sam said. “What do you know about him? Do you think he could help, or is he just pulling our legs?”

Dean threw his hands up. “I don’t know, okay? As far as I know, at Sutter Creek, he was a good guy, alright? But,” he gestured in the direction they’d come from. “He just shot someone point-blank in the face, back there. Didn’t even blink.” He was grasping at straws now. While he had pulled his gun on others before, he had never killed anyone. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t have killed those bounty hunters. Still, he didn’t know much about Cas and while he had never pictured him a stone-cold killer, it could be the truth.

“Listen,” Sam said. “I know you’re trying to protect me.”

“Damn straight.”

“But I need to do this. And I will. With or without you.” In the soft light bleeding from the kitchen window, Sam’s gaze was resolute. “I don’t need your permission.”

Dean knew he couldn’t talk Sam out of seeking revenge, reckless as it may be. As much as he wished it weren’t true, Sam would never rest until every member of the Marauders was dead and gone, murdered like they had murdered Jessica.

"Alright,” Dean said. He shook his head. “But you’re not doing it alone. I’m coming with you. Promise me you’ll listen to me, alright? We’re not going to go into this with some half-cocked plan. We’re gonna do it right.”

“I promise.”

Dean shook his head again. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” Sam smiled faintly. “Let’s dry off before we catch pneumonia.”

Inside, Cas placed wood in the potbelly stove in the corner. He swore, his hands shaking as he tried to light a match, and turned to see Dean and Sam walk inside. “These matches are all shit.” He threw the unlit match into the stove and tried another. It caught. “Aha!” He coaxed the small flame into a fire inside the stove and straightened up, wiping his hands on his pants. He eyed Dean and Sam.

“We’re in,” Sam said. 

“Alright then,” Cas said, surprised. He pointed to a chest next to the bed. “There might be blankets in there, I imagine.” He looked at Dean, wondering at the change of heart.

Dean leaned against the wall as Sam opened the chest and pulled out a stack of blankets. “You wanna tell us why you’re gunning for revenge?” he asked.

Cas nodded slowly and sat in a chair at the table. He had known he would have to explain. He clasped his hands on the table, then dropped them into his lap. “I used to ride with a friend, more like a brother. Gabriel.” He chose his next words carefully. “One day the Marauders rode into the town where we were staying. Abigail shot Gabriel, for really no reason at all. Just wrong place, wrong time. I was nearly shot too but managed to get away.” He met Dean’s eyes and Dean flushed and looked away. “I reckon that should be reason enough for wanting the Marauders dead.”

“That’s plenty a reason,” Sam said, sitting across from Cas.

“One has to be a bit crazed anyhow to go after the Marauders, but I’m not fool enough to go after them alone.” Cas looked at Sam. “When I saw you in town, I knew how you must be feeling. I figured we could help each other out.”

“Right,” Sam said. He looked at Dean and Dean shrugged. 

“Good enough for me, I guess,” he said.

Relief flooded Cas. He stood and took a blanket from Sam and gestured to the floor. “One of you can take the bed. I’m good here.” There was more he wanted to say, to Dean, but it would have to wait. He doubted Dean would want Sam to hear.

“You take the bed, Sammy,” Dean said. Sam started to protest. “Just take it. You’re too civilized. I know you’re not used to sleeping on the ground yet.”

“Fine. If you insist.” Sam dragged his chair closer to the stove and began to shuck off his clothes, arranging them on the chair to dry. 

Dean watched Cas spread his blanket in front of the stove. He had changed to a flannel shirt and his feet were bare.

Turning away, Dean emptied his pack on the table. “Hope our stuff dries out overnight,” he said. The box holding hardtack nearly fell apart in his hand though the hardtack itself was still bricklike. The food they had bought yesterday was wrapped in butcher paper and seemed reasonably dry.

He glanced over to see Cas unbuttoning his pants and snapped his head back to the table. 

_Stop acting a damn fool_ , he thought. He sat down to peel off his boots. They squelched as he set them down.

“Well, I’m beat,” Cas said. “We should get some rest and then an early start tomorrow. Figure out where to head next.”

“Sounds good,” Sam said. He sat on the bed, which creaked loudly. “Night.”

“Night,” Dean replied. He laid out his blanket on the ground next to the stove, a few feet away from Cas, and began to strip off his wet clothes. Cas was wrapped up in a red plaid blanket, facing the other way. The firelight grew and shrunk along his still form. 

Dean laid down and rolled up another blanket as a pillow. Lying in the quiet, thoughts and questions spun in his mind with such force he felt physically unsettled. 

Cas was really here. He’d thought about Cas, it was true, since the last time he’d seen him. But he had never thought he’d see him again, never even wished to. It was too unlikely. What did it matter, though? Like he told Sam, he hardly knew Cas—though he might have exaggerated the fact. He pulled the blanket over him tighter to stave off the chill whistling under the door and around the window. He was sure Cas had never given him a second thought after he left Sutter Creek. The only reason they had met again was because Cas and Sam were intent on revenge, and Dean couldn’t blame Cas any more than he could blame Sam.

The rain sounded like it had slowed. It pattered the windows and roof softly now. So Cas would be riding with them now—but what of it? Dean was only here to help Sam find his peace. That’s all that mattered now.

* * *

The morning air was cool and a light breeze spread the fresh scent of primrose and rosemary. Already the morning sun was drying the ground, though the sand was still soft enough to give way under their horses’ hooves, leaving faint imprints. 

Dean looked over his shoulder and worried at their trail. Cas rode point, Sam a few paces behind. That morning, Cas had told them of a Navajo trail, and now they were riding towards it, to the mountain ridge it cut across. The trail was mostly unridden nowadays since the tribe who used it had been scattered by violent men taking their land. Cas said it was the quickest way to gain distance and they were unlikely to meet anyone on the way. Dean himself didn’t know this terrain well, having spent most of his time further out west. It irked him slightly, having to follow Cas’s lead, but he kept it to himself for Sam’s benefit. Besides, what reason did he have to doubt Cas?

As the sun rose behind them, Sam rode next to Dean. “Cas said beyond the ridge is Little West. Why’s that name sound familiar?”

“We stopped there with Pa a coupla times.” Dean adjusted the collar of his coat to protect his neck against the sun. The heat from the sun was quickly warming the air and drying the sand into fine dust. Soon there would be no sign of the raging storm the night before. “One of the saloons there was his favorite before it shut down.”

“That’s it,” Sam said. “The saloon was part brothel, right? Pa would send us up to our hotel room when he’d had a couple drinks and you’d try to get me to sleep since you knew he wouldn’t show up for a while.” He snorted. “Took me a couple years to get what was going on.”

“Can you blame the guy?” Dean asked fiercely. “It’s lonesome on the road.” His response belied the way he remembered feeling back then. The annoyance at having to take care of Sam again and the fear his Pa wouldn’t come back. Always the fear.

“Guess not,” Sam shrugged. He looked at Cas riding ahead and lowered his voice. “He’s pretty quiet. I wonder how long he’s been studying the Marauders, waiting for this opportunity.”

Dean shrugged. “Seems like it’s been a while.” He studied the slope of Cas’s shoulders. He’d never imagined Cas would be tied up in something like this.

“He never mentioned anything, when you knew him in Sutter Creek?” Dean shook his head. “When you first saw him, back at the cabin, it seemed like you two might know each other better than you were letting on.”

“What? No.” Dean glanced at Sam. “I was just surprised to see him, that’s all.” He adjusted his hat. “Our camps were near each other at the river we were panning. I think we got drinks once, in town. He didn’t talk much. Obviously.”

“Oh.” 

Dean chanced another glance at Sam. He didn’t seem to be reading anything into his words.

They stopped for the night and set up camp when the sun had ducked behind the mountain ridge. Dean unsaddled Tucker and grabbed his pack. He wasn’t keen on stopping. It had been easier staying in the saddle, no need for talking. Now he’d have to face Cas again.

“We should reach the trail by early tomorrow,” Cas was saying, sitting on the ground next to the fire Sam was starting with the sparse brush around them. Dean sat down and opened his pack to root for food and Cas said, “Wait.” He opened his own pack, dug inside, and tossed Dean a container of biscuits and jerky. “Sorry. I don’t have much more in the way of supplies.”

“Good enough,” Dean said. “I can make something out of this.” He used his knife to pry the lid off a can of coffee grounds.

“So, Cas,” Sam said. “How long you been on the Marauders’ trail?”

Cas shrugged. “Ever since Gabe died. It’s been a long while.” He scratched the back of his head. “I don’t like talking about it.” Dean looked at him over the fire and Cas met his eyes before looking away uneasily. 

“Oh, yeah, sure. Sorry.” Sam returned to kindling the fire. A flurry of sparks rose in the dusky air.

“So,” Cas said, clearing his throat. “I’ve been thinking how to corner the Marauders and win our fight. I figure the best way to do so is by surprise, attacking when they’re most vulnerable.”

“Vulnerable?” Dean asked, setting the coffee pot on the coals on the outskirts of the fire. “You seen the amounta bounty hunters, lawmen, and other outlaws set on catching the Marauders? None of them ever been successful yet.”

“Difference is, they don’t know about the Marauders’ hideout.”

“Where is this hideout?” Sam asked.

“Out in the Colton Hills, miles from any town in every direction. Years back, a group of settlers found a vein of ore, thought they could make it big mining the ground. Whole operation lasted less than a year before they realized their first discovery was the extent of the bounty and packed up their things. That and the discovery of gold out in California. The Marauders hide out in the abandoned mine when they need to lie low.”

Sam whistled. 

“I don’t know,” Dean said. “This hideout sounds like some myth. Like how their leader supposedly single-handedly wiped out a ten-man posse chasing her. Too many damn townsfolk sensationalizing everything.”

“It ain’t a rumor,” Cas said. “You’d be surprised the kinda information you can get from the right people with the right bribes.”

“Alright, so they have a hideout,” Sam said. “When will they be there?”

Cas shrugged. “Don’t know. Not until they’ve done something that’s got the law breathing hard down their necks. We’ll have to play it by ear.”

“And when they’re in the mine?” Dean asked. 

“You can shoot, can’t you?” Cas asked, tilting his head to look at Dean.

“That’s your plan? Go in guns blazing? Us three against what, ten, twelve, of them?”

Cas shrugged. “We’ll figure something out. Figure the element of surprise is enough to give us the upper hand.” 

“Well, it’s a better plan than anything me and Dean could come up with,” Sam said. Dean snorted. Cas stood to grab his canteen from his pack. 

“Why don’t you tell a county lawman about the mine, get a posse involved?” Dean asked him. 

“Because they’ll only muddle things,” Cas said. “All their boasts and they haven’t done a damn thing to stop the Marauders. Mainly because the Marauders are always bribing them.” 

“Since when have you been on the law’s side?” Sam asked Dean. Dean waved him off. 

“So agreed?” Cas asked, unscrewing the cap off his canteen. “We stay one step ahead, waiting for the Marauders to strike big. A train heist or bank robbery in a big town. Then we’ll be ready for them at the mine.”

“Agreed,” Sam said. Cas looked at Dean, as if waiting for his agreement. 

“Fine,” Dean said. There was no point, was there, in arguing. Sam and Cas had already made up their minds.

They ate the rest of their meal more or less in silence, then divvied up the watches, Cas volunteering to take first, and settled down for the night.

Despite the weariness from a long day of travel, Dean slept fitfully, unable to ignore that Cas was only a few feet away. Instead of any relief or happiness, he felt disquieted. He’d never reckoned on having to deal with the past. After all this time, after he had moved on and forgotten.

He woke to Cas nudging his shoulder. He sat up. 

“Your watch,” Cas said. He crouched by the fire, now a low, bright red glow. He placed more brush on top and the renewed flames lit up his face. More stubble, more weariness than Dean remembered from the first time he had met him. 

Dean stood and stretched. The nearly full moon cast the desert in a silver glow. A coyote’s howl carried faintly through the breeze. 

Settling back down, he caught Cas watching him. Cas ducked his head and began smoothing out his bedroll. Dean took his gun out from under his makeshift pillow and checked to see if it was fully loaded.

“I want you to know,” Cas said. “My seeing you and your brother in town was purely a coincidence.” 

Dean rubbed at a smudge on his gun’s barrel. “Good to know.”

“I knew Sam was your brother, though.” Dean glanced at Cas. He was sitting cross-legged on his blanket, scooping up sand and letting it sift through his fingers. “You were always talking about your ‘smart kid brother, the lawyer.’” Dean felt a pang hearing the easy way Cas talked about back then.

Picking up a handful of sand and letting it drop all at once, Cas said, “Guess I should’ve expected you’d be with him.”

“Hmm.”

“I wasn’t going to approach you and Sam until I heard those bounty hunters planning to ambush you.”

“You didn’t have to, ya know,” Dean said. “We coulda taken them.”

Cas snorted. “Sure looked that way when I rode up. I guess getting disarmed was your goal, then?”

“Well, you’re here now anyway. All because Sam is hellbent on revenge.”

“You’re not?”

Dean met his eyes. “I am.” He looked over at Sam, who was snoring softly, and lowered his voice. “Hell, I know I’ll never understand what Sam’s going through, but when I think about what the Marauders did to him...” He shook his head and stared down at his gun. “Sam’s not the one to be picking fights. This isn’t like him.” He lifted then dropped his hand on his leg. “But I can’t say no to the puppy dog eyes he makes.”

Cas smiled. He uncrossed his legs, seemingly making to lie down, then paused. “Listen, Dean,” he started, “I wanted to say, about what happened in Sutter Creek—”

“That was a...a mistake,” Dean cut in. He’d been apprehensive all day, worried Cas would broach the subject. Now his words came out in a rush before he could second guess himself, seize up. “A drunken mistake and as far as I’m concerned, it might as well’ve not happened.” He chanced a glance at Cas, who only stared at him. The crackle of the fire was suddenly too loud. 

“Agreed,” Cas said, finally, quietly. “I’m only here because your brother was unlucky enough to have a run in with the Marauders. Whatever,” he waved his hand, seeming to search for words, “happened back in Sutter Creek, it’s nothing to do with this. I’m here to get revenge.” 

“Alright. We’re in agreement then.” Dean felt drained.

Cas nodded and lifted up his blanket. “Goodnight.” He laid down, facing away.

Dean dug the heel of his boot into the sand. _Fuck_ , he thought. He looked at Cas, lying still, and began to resent him for showing up. What right did Cas have to intrude on his and Sam’s life when they were doing just fine without him? Cas didn’t give a fuck about anything but his own need for revenge. And now he’d dragged Sam into it as well.

Dean looked into the fire, at the dark flaking sticks, at the way the desert ground rippled behind the flames. The fire began to smolder, but Dean ignored it. Another coyote called and he searched the desert around him, but the coyote was nowhere to be seen.

Source: Adventure Magazine 1921-12-20

* * *

“You sure there’s a trail here?” Dean asked.

Cas craned his neck to look up at the rocky ridge. “It’s close.” He scanned the rock face for any semblance of a trail. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in these parts.” 

They had reached the mountain ridge at high noon and Cas wasn’t eager to start the slow climb up and out of the shadow of the mountain ridge. He hoped the overhanging rock face would provide some measure of shade on the trail. If he could find the trail, that is. He rode ahead and heard Dean and Sam follow slowly behind. 

“Gonna be a pain in the ass to ride up there,” Dean called. 

Cas rolled his eyes. “Beats taking two days to ride around this ridge,” he called back. He shaded his eyes to study the terrain. There, where the rocks spread to reveal room enough for a horse to travel through. “Over here,” he called and nudged his horse, Angel, up the trail. “We better get a move on to reach a level area by nightfall. It’s no good trying to travel this way in the dark.”

They began the climb. Small rocks shook loose with every step Angel made. Cas kept a watchful eye on the large rocks above, wary of mountain lions. He didn’t mention the risk of predatory animals to Dean and Sam. They should already be aware, and he didn’t want to give Dean, who’d been grumbling all day, another opportunity to complain. 

There was little shade to be had and Cas’s shirt was soon drenched in sweat. He pulled Angel to a stop on a slight leveling before the trail rose sharply. He unscrewed the lid off his canteen and drank eagerly. Even the warm water was welcome.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Few more hours before we reach the top. We might have to walk the horses part of the way.” Sam and Dean had stopped as well to take a drink. “Best conserve your water. We won’t reach a spring until tomorrow.”

“Great,” Dean said sarcastically, strapping his canteen to his saddle. He took off his hat and wiped his forehead with a bandana.

“You think the Marauders know about this trail?” Sam asked. His horse pawed at the ground. 

“‘Spect so,” Cas said, unsure how much to reveal. Dean raised an eyebrow. “I doubt they use it very much anymore, though,” Cas added hurriedly. “And anyway, right now they’re closer to Harbertville and that’s miles and miles away.”

“Well that’s reassuring,” Dean said. “And I suppose you’re basing that off a two-week-old paper you read days ago.”

“I wouldn’t be taking us on this route if I thought it’d put us in danger,” Cas shot back. 

“Alright, alright,” Sam said. “Let’s keep moving.” He glared at Dean. 

Cas turned away and snapped his reins to get Angel moving. It was going to be a long day.

The sun was melting on the horizon when they reached the top of the ridge. Sagebrush and cacti cluttered the dusty-red rocky ground. For the last half mile they had led their horses on foot up the steep, unstable terrain. At times, the trail seemed to disappear and they—well, he and Dean—had argued over which rocks to pass between. More than once, Cas had handed Angel’s reins to Sam and climbed a few feet to investigate a possible continuation of the trail. He had to be cautious with every step. Besides loose rocks and crevices which could twist an ankle, snakes liked to hide in the cool shadows between rocks jutted over each other.

But they had made it to the top without any injury to their horses or themselves. Cas led Angel to the side and anchored her reins where the rock on one side of the plateau rose to tower above at a steep angle. Sam and Dean followed suit. Dean walked to the edge of the ridge and looked over the drop-off. 

Cas scanned the area. “I don’t think there’s enough brush to start a fire,” he said. Everything was so brittle and dry, it would flash into flame in an instant and die out just as fast. 

“Just as well,” Sam said. “We don’t want to risk being seen anyway.” 

Dean walked back from the edge. “Looks like it’s a cold dinner tonight.” 

Cas sunk onto a more or less flat rock and fanned himself with his hat. He watched Dean pull food out of his pack and unwrap a chunk of bread from butcher paper. He tore a piece off and tossed the rest to Sam. “Should be some non-moldy parts.” 

Sam made a face, but he ripped off a piece and gave the rest to Cas. Cas rooted in his pack and took out dried jerky. He passed it to Sam. “This takes a lot more than rain to spoil,” he said. “Reckon it’d taste the same after a few years.”

They ate silently as the sun dipped below the horizon and the sky took on a deep purple hue. 

Sam stood. “I can take first watch,” he said.

“Second,” Dean said, grabbing his bedroll and spreading it on the ground. 

Cas laid out his own and settled down. The desert floor was no easy place to sleep, but this rocky ridge was decidedly worse. Thankfully, living a life on the road had taught him how to sleep anywhere. 

He stared up at the sky, at the number of stars which seemed to increase every second. He hated the way Dean had spoken last night, as if he thought Cas expected something from him because of what had happened in Sutter Creek. Cas was under no illusions of how Dean felt about him.

Hopefully the Marauders would end up at the mine soon. He didn’t know how long this arrangement, riding with Sam and Dean, would last. Not with Dean questioning everything he said.

He felt a twinge of guilt about lying to them. He wished he could say he had been to the Marauder’s hideout, had seen it with his own eyes. That he couldn’t have the law involved, not with the chance that they might turn on him. But Sam and Dean didn’t need to know everything—couldn’t know everything. It was plenty he wished he could forget.

* * *

It seemed like Dean had just closed his eyes when Sam pushed his shoulder and woke him for his watch. He groaned as he sat up. Sam was sitting on his bedroll close by, a blanket draped around his shoulders. 

“All good?” Dean asked, rubbing his back. He was certain there was an indent from the rocks under his bedroll.

“Fine,” Sam said. He pointed to the east. “There’s a fire a few miles away but no one riding, far as I can tell.”

“I’ll keep an eye on it.” Dean stood, kicked his feet into his boots.

“Dean?”

“Hmm?” He looked down at Sam. In the bright moonlight, the rocks looked coated in silver plating and Sam’s eyes looked grey.

“You doing alright?”

“Yeah, of course. Why you asking me that?”

Sam shrugged, the blanket around his shoulders slipping a little. “You just seem a little...antagonistic, I guess.”

“Antagonistic.” Dean laughed quietly. “That’s great. Use your big lawyer words.”

“You’ve been giving Cas a hard time.”

“‘Course I have. What, I’m supposed to blindly follow every word he says?”

“No.” Sam rubbed his beard. “Anything happen since we last saw each other? I mean, that you’re not letting on?”

“I reckon you need to stick to your lawyer business, not this psychiatric shit. You wanna measure my head next? What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing. You just seem different. Forget it.”

“Don’t reckon I’m any different than before. You’re the one who’s changed.”

“What?” Sam looked up at him. 

Dean gestured at him. “You’re older, got a ridiculous beard.” Sam rolled his eyes. “You’re not that little Sammy who was afraid of haunts and the dark.”

“Funny,” Sam said. “So I grew up. And you became more of an asshole.” He grinned up at Dean.

“Go to sleep,” Dean said, lightly kicking Sam’s legs. He walked off to the edge of the plateau. There was the fire, like Sam had said. A small, wavering orange light in the vast, open space. He could just make out the dark outline of the town they would head to tomorrow. He craned his neck to see the moon surrounded by a hazy aura of light. 

_Different?_ he thought. Now what the hell did that mean? He rubbed the faint stubble along his neck and chin and shook his head. Sam meant well, but he could pry too much.

He glanced back at Sam’s sleeping form, curled up to fit on his bedroll. Cas was farther away, lying closer to the rock face rising up and jutting against the sky. 

Much as he didn’t want to admit it, Cas’s plan carried weight. But he hated the way Cas and Sam acted like getting revenge was a sure thing. He’d seen how the need for revenge spurred his pa for so many years. He and Sam had been dragged all over the place and for what? It only ended in his pa getting himself killed. 

There had been no sense in it. He could only hope their quest turned out better.

* * *

The descent down the ridge was tougher to manage than the climb had been. Cas swung off Angel once again to lead her through a particularly steep section. Sam stood up in his saddle to peer over the edge of the ridge. 

“Coupla miles at least,” Cas said. He took a step and rocks clattered down the trail which was starting to look more like a rough sketch of one than the real thing.

Sam sank back down into his saddle and dismounted. “I’ll be glad to be back on the desert.”

“You’re telling me,” Dean said.

Cas made it to more level ground and looked back at Dean and Sam heading down the hill. “Shit, shit, shit,” Dean said, nearly losing his balance. 

“You good?” Sam called. 

“Just fine,” Dean muttered. He glared at Cas and Cas turned away. _Cheerful as always._ Angel whinnied and he stroked her head.

“Hey!” Sam called. Cas looked up at him. “I saw something.” He pointed up the ridge. “A mountain lion, I think.” 

Cas squinted and shielded his eyes from the sun directly above them. He caught a flash of movement, a dark shape moving between two large rocks. “Over there!” he pointed. They all looked, but the animal had disappeared from sight.

“Where’d it go?” Dean asked.

Cas scanned the rocks and began to doubt he’d seen anything at all. Then a dark shape sprang above him and Angel reared, neighing, and pushed him backwards. 

Cas fell off the side of the trail, over the edge of the ridge. Rocks and dirt gave way and he slid down the steep, rough slope, clutching blindly at anything to slow his fall. Flashes of pain registered as jagged crags caught at his clothing and skin. With a jolt that rang through his arm, he grabbed onto a large rock and stopped his descent. 

Sam and Dean were yelling. 

His heart pounding, fingers gripping the cragged rock, Cas looked up. 

Two yellow eyes stared back.


	3. Big Sky

Source: Adventure Magazine 1918-07-03

Cas sucked in his breath, frozen in place. The mountain lion was perched above him, whisking its tail back and forth. Then a shot rang out and it screamed and jumped away to a higher rock. Another shot, and Cas couldn’t see it anymore. He managed to grab onto the large rock with both hands and find loose footing for his feet. He groaned and began to climb his way back up to the trail. Sam appeared above him and helped him up the last few feet. 

“You alright?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Cas panted. He looked around. “You kill the bastard?”

Dean walked over, clutching his gun. “Wounded it at least. It ran away.” He pointed to the rock it had perched on and Cas saw blood stains. “Your arm’s bleeding.”

Cas looked down at his arms. While they were both streaked with dirt and covered in scratches, there was one bigger gash on his right arm. Blood seeped through the cut in his sleeve and ran down his hand, between his fingers.

Seeing the wound, the sharp pain registered and he gritted his teeth.

“Here, hold on,” Sam said. He went to his horse and began digging through his saddle bag. 

“You might wanna hold your arm up,” Dean said. He reached for Cas’s arm.

“I’m fine,” Cas said, pulling his arm away. “It’s just a scratch.” Dean raised his eyebrows.

“I’ve got bandages,” Sam said, bringing over a small leather bag.

“What the fuck?” Dean asked. “You got a whole doctor’s kit in there?”

Sam ignored him and pulled out a small roll of cotton. “Dean, cut open his sleeve.”

Dean pulled out his knife and held out his hand for Cas’s arm, smirking. Cas glared at him, but let him cut open the sleeve, wincing as the cloth pulled at the skin around the wound. The gash wasn’t long, but blood wouldn’t stop pooling out, dripping onto the ground. Sam began wrapping the bandage around his arm. Cas distracted himself by looking around, searching for the mountain lion. 

“It’ll stay away if it knows what’s good for it,” Dean said. Cas looked at him. “Must have been pretty hungry to attack us.”

Sam cut the end of the bandage from the roll. “There.”

“Thank you.” Cas took his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood from his hands as best he could. Balling up the handkerchief, he looked at Sam and Dean. “Ready to keep going?” He brushed dirt off his shirt and pants. 

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Let’s get off this ridge before another mountain lion makes an appearance.”

“You sure you’re alright?” Sam asked, touching Cas’s shoulder. 

Cas nodded. He walked to Angel and petted her. “Alright, girl?” he asked. He picked his hat up off the ground where it had fallen. Clumsily, he mounted, trying to avoid using his bandaged arm. Angel began picking her way down the trail. They had gotten lucky. His arm was hurting more than he was letting on, and he knew he had a few bruises from his fall, but he would have been mauled by the lion if Dean hadn’t shot at it.

The trail narrowed and he could see over the edge to the jagged rocks below. If he had fallen here, he would have most certainly fallen to his death. He didn’t really believe in God, but he found himself thinking a prayer of thanks.

Beyond the rocks at the bottom of the ridge, the desert stretched flat, the next town, Riverton, only a slight interruption in the grand scale of things. The distance and wavering heat made Riverton difficult to discern, but every town around these parts was the same. A saloon, sheriff’s office, a hotel if it was along a popular route. 

He turned back to the trail. Best not get distracted. They still had to reach the bottom of the ridge in one piece. The trail switchbacked and, looking up, he caught sight of Dean’s face. He knew Dean wasn’t pleased having someone other than himself take charge. Lord knew he hadn’t been trying to wrest control from Dean. He was generally the one who hung back, let others lead. But finding the Marauders was too important.

He didn’t know when this plan had first formed in his mind. It had formed slowly, unconsciously, and it was a long while before he’d acknowledged it. Getting revenge was more a wish, something he never thought he’d actually accomplish. When he’d heard Kip Wilson was arrested and on trial, he’d merely been curious. That Sam Winchester, the brother he had heard so much about, was a lawyer in the trial was a mere coincidence. He had never meant to get involved.

But Kip’s close call had whet his appetite for revenge, stirring up a bitter anger he had been quietly nursing all these years. And when he saw Sam in town, knowing the tragedy the Marauders had put Sam through, well, everything fell into place. Everything, that is, except Dean.

So far it was going about as well as expected. Dean was less than friendly, but Cas hadn’t expected anything more, giving the way Dean had left Sutter Creek. One morning Cas woke up to see Dean’s camp by the river gone, hardly a trace he’d lived there for a month. 

Cas adjusted his hat. Well, it didn’t matter one way or another to him. That was the way of the West. People came and went. It had maybe stung a bit, if he was honest, the way Dean left without a word, but he didn’t need to know why. Rather, he reckoned he already knew.

At long last, their horses stepped off the rocky trail onto the crumbly level sand. They continued onwards, towards Riverton, making good time now that they didn’t have to pick each step and look out for mountain lions. By the time Riverton rose in front of them, close enough to see the weathered homes on the outskirts, the sun was making their shadows long on the sand. 

Dean, ahead, slowed to a stop and Cas pulled up next to him. “Alright,” Dean said. “Where we making camp?”

“I thought we were staying in town tonight,” Sam said, riding up on Dean’s other side.

“Have you forgotten what happened last time we were in town?” Dean asked. “You’re a wanted man.”

“The only reason those bounty hunters came after us is because one had been in Windrixville,” Sam said. “But Windrixville is small enough that I doubt anyone here has passed through it. Besides, we need supplies.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “And one of us will go into town while the others stay away.”

Cas looked back and forth between them, holding his tongue. He wasn’t keen on getting in the middle of a sibling argument.

“You really want us to split up?” Sam asked. “I don’t want to spend another night sleeping on the ground.”

“Well tough! We’re not risking it!”

“Cas, what do you think?” Sam leaned forward to look past Dean at him.

Cas looked warily at Dean, who frowned at him. “It’s a risk, going into town,” he started. Dean gave Sam an I-told-you-so look. “But we shouldn’t split up,” Cas finished.

Dean’s smile vanished. “You guys are fucking crazy,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re idiots.”

“We’ll keep an eye out, hightail it if there’s anything shady,” Sam said.

“We need information on the Marauders anyway,” Cas said. “Maybe we’ll learn where they’ve been spotted.”

“You guys are fucking wearing on me,” Dean said. He snapped his reins and his horse began walking. “Have it your way.” He looked at Cas. “If anything happens, it’s your fault.”

Sam rolled his eyes at Cas. “Don’t listen to him,” he said and began riding after Dean. Cas followed. It wasn’t lost on him the way they had to convince Dean about whatever step they took next, as if he was the final authority. But let him think he was in charge. So long as they accomplished what they needed to.

Riverton wasn’t very busy when they rode in. They passed mainly small homes, and the few men and women on the street only glanced at them before returning to whatever they were doing. Cas saw Dean shaking his head slightly. _Better us sticking together here than splitting up_ , he thought.

“Excuse me ma’m,” he called to a woman sitting on a porch fanning herself with her hand. She looked at him disinterestedly. “There a restaurant ‘round here?”

She pointed in the direction they were heading. “Coupla houses down, past the church. Called Moseley’s. Can’t miss it.”

Cas tipped his hat. “Much obliged.” They kept riding and the restaurant came into view. It seemed they were in the center of town from the number of people milling about. There was a saloon next to the restaurant and across the street, a two-level building with a wide porch and balcony where a few women sat, talking to people passing by.

They hitched their horses outside and went into the restaurant. The place wasn’t very big, but most tables were full. They found an empty one at the back of the room hazy with cigarette smoke and low lighting. Next to them, three men and a woman huddled around a table playing cards. 

A woman came out from behind the bar and up to their table. Her apron might have once been white, but it was now a motley grey with all manner of stains. “Dinner tonight is steak and potatoes, green beans, and cornbread. Desert is a slice of pie.” Dean’s eyebrows shot up and Sam rolled his eyes.

“We’ll have all of that,” Dean said.

There was the sound of glass shattering, and the woman sighed and turned around. “You’re gonna have to pay for that,” she hollered. The culprit, a man seated at the bar, nodded sheepishly.

The woman turned back to them. “Any drinks?”

“Three whiskeys,” Sam said. “Thanks.”

The woman walked away, pausing to grab dirty plates from the card-playing table.

“Dammit!” one of the men at the table exclaimed, drawing Cas’s attention. 

Another man, younger than the rest, laughed and gathered up the pile of money lying on the table. He stacked the coins into tall piles. “You sure lost good, Mick.”

“He’s cheating, Missouri,” Mick said. “You gonna allow that here?” 

The woman who had taken their order swatted at his head with her free hand. “My son don’t cheat. You’re just no good at faro.” She walked back to the bar, weaving her way in between the tables.

“Well,” Dean said. “This is a lively joint.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Sam said. Cas looked at him, unsure what he was referring to. 

Dean leaned forward. “We could use some extra cash,” he said, his voice lowered. He leaned back as Missouri set their drinks on the table.

“One moment you don’t want to step foot in town, the next you’re ready to start joining the locals in card games?” Sam asked when Missouri stepped away.

Dean shrugged. “We’re here, ain’t we?” Cas drank from his glass, remembering seeing Dean at the local saloon in Sutter Creek, always playing cards with someone.

Missouri came back, balancing three plates filled with food. She set them on their table with loud thunks. “You’re lucky, I just put a pie in the oven so you’ll be getting it fresh.”

Dean whistled and snatched up the silverware on the table. “Sounds great.”

Missouri pulled a rag out of her apron pocket and wiped it across her forehead. “You boys just passing through?”

“Yes ma’m,” Cas said. “Though we were hoping to stay the night, if there’s a hotel in town.”

“There ain’t. But Ms. Barnes runs a boarding house and she could put you up for the night.”

The group playing cards erupted in laughter and protests. “Sounds like they’re having a good time,” Dean remarked. 

Missouri sighed. “They’re here nearly every night.” She pointed to the man who had won the last round. “That’s my son James. Him and the others sit here, playin’ and runnin’ up a tab until late. Too many damn bachelors in this town with nothin’ better to do.” She shook her head, but Cas could see the slight smile tugging at her mouth. She shoved her rag back in her pocket. “Wave me down if you need anything else, alright?” She walked away to clear the plates off another table.

“Shit, Dean,” Sam said. “Slow down.” 

“This food is amazing,” Dean paused long enough to say. He had nearly cleared his plate. Sam sighed and cut at his steak with his knife and fork.

Cas took a bite of the cornbread. “Not bad.”

“Better than anything Dean can cook up, that’s for sure,” Sam said.

Dean took a swig of his whiskey and pointed his knife at Sam. “I’d like to see you manage to cook anything.”

“Fine, I will,” Sam said. “Next time we’re camping out, just watch.”

Dean snorted. “That’ll be the day.” 

Cas watched with a remote interest. As if reading his thoughts, Sam looked at him. “So, Cas. You have any siblings?”

“No.” Cas cleared his throat, wondering how much to say. “There were plenty of other kids, though, in the orphanage where I grew up.”

“Oh,” Sam said. “Sorry.” 

Cas knew he’d react that way. Everyone did. He shrugged. “No matter. Just how it is. I lived there until I was sixteen, then left for the west.” He scooped up a spoonful of potatoes.

“Must have been rough, I’d imagine,” Sam said. “You never hear the best of things about orphanages.”

“Weren’t terrible. Way the nuns told it, I was dropped off one night as a baby, like most others, without any notice. Better than the streets, I reckon. And it’s where I met Gabriel. He was older, kinda took me under his wing. Closest thing to a brother I ever had. We always told people we were brothers.” He stabbed a green bean and kept eating, sensing Sam and Dean’s eyes on him. He didn’t know why he’d brought up the subject. He hated talking about his childhood. He hated the looks of pity everyone gave him.

“I would’ve never pegged you as an orphan,” Dean said. Sam coughed and gave Dean a look.

“I’m not sure how to take that,” Cas said.

“I’m just saying,” Dean said, “You seem relatively well-adjusted.”

“Technically we’re orphans too, Dean,” Sam said.

“Don’t say it like that,” Dean said, “You trying to get in a competition with him now? Over who has the saddest life story?”

“No, of course not.” Sam looked at Cas. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t—”

“It’s fine, really. I didn’t realize you guys...” He didn’t know how to end the sentence.

“Our pa passed a few years ago,” Sam said. “And our ma when I was a baby.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“You guys need more drinks?” Dean asked. “I need another.” He motioned to Missouri at the bar. Cas focused on finishing his plate, having made conversation awkward enough already. 

Missouri brought over three plates of pie on a tray and a pitcher. “Figure you boys’ll finish this off,” she said, setting down the pitcher. She cleared their empty plates. 

“The food was really good,” Sam said, handing her his plate.

“Well, I’ll tell the chef that. I can’t cook shit.”

“You have that in common with this one, then,” Dean said, pointing to Sam. Cas smiled as Sam flipped Dean off under the table. Missouri laughed, stacking their empty plates on her tray.

At the other table, Mick stood and threw his cards down. “Well, I’m out. Best be getting home now before I lose any more money.” He grabbed his coat hanging off the back of his chair. “Night, Missouri.”

“Night, hun.” 

Missouri’s son James leaned back in his chair, laughing. “One down.” He looked at their table. “Any of you wanna play?”

Dean looked triumphantly at Sam. “I’ll try my hand.” He pushed back his chair and stood. 

“Careful now,” Missouri called from the bar. “James does this every night.” 

Dean sat at the other table, and Sam refilled his and Cas’s glasses. “Looks like we’ll be here for a while.”

Missouri returned to their table and sat in Dean’s empty chair. “James is always draggin’ my customers into his card games.”

“You get alota newcomers in town?” Cas asked.

“Wal now, I wouldn’t say many. Mosta my customers are repeats. We’re a little outta the way of most folk’s routes in these parts.”

“Would you happen to have any recent newspapers?” Sam asked.

“Over there.” Missouri pointed to the fireplace behind them. “Should be some in that basket.” 

Sam got up and returned with a short stack. He opened one and began rifling through it.

“Nothin’ very interesting in the news these days,” Missouri said, “besides your usual robberies and reports of gold further out west. There was that trial everyone was talkin’ about, with the man from the Marauders.” Sam looked up sharply. “Shame he got away, what happened to that lawyer.” She tsked.

“The Marauders ever come ‘round these parts?” Cas asked. 

“Not directly. Last year they robbed the bank at Fort Sewell, 20, 30 miles from here. ‘Course I wouldn’t recognize them if they did show up.”

“Fort Sewell the biggest town in these parts?”

“Wal, sure. Fort Sewell and Rebel Corners. They recently ran a railroad line through Rebel Corners and it’s been boomin’.” She pulled a cigar from her apron pocket and lit it. “Where you boys say you comin’ from?”

“Alberta,” Sam said. “Small town. We’re heading further west, looking for ranch hand work.”

“Now there’s a tough job, ain’t it? But I’ve heard there’s plenty a need for help.”

“Looks like you got me beat,” Cas heard Dean say. He looked to see the woman at the table grinning as she gathered up the money in the center of the table.

“Beat ya that time, James,” she said. “Ya better start watching out.”

“It was a close game,” James said. “Don’t get too cocky yet.” 

“Play again?” the other man at the table asked.

“Why not?” Dean said. 

“I’ll get y’all another pitcher.” Missouri pushed herself to her feet. 

“Rebel Corners,” Cas said when she walked away. “If the Marauders come near here, that’s where they’ll head. New railway, new folk. Plenty of opportunity to strike it big.”

“Or they might head to any other growing town.” Sam snapped a newspaper shut. He ran his hand through his hair. “Shit. They could be anywhere.”

“We’ll get them soon enough. They’ve been too quiet lately. Sooner or later Abby will start itching for something big.”

Sam eyed him and Cas knew he might easily be suspicious of him like Dean, of how much he knew about the Marauders. He nodded at Dean. “He’s not too great at faro, is he?”

Sam snorted. “He’s just getting started. He doesn’t lose very often, and it’s usually on purpose.” 

Cas remembered playing against Dean once. He didn’t remember who’d won.

“Dean said you and him camped near each other out in Sutter Creek,” Sam said.

“Yeah. There was a whole stretch of campsites along the river.”

“I’m figuring you didn’t strike it big either.”

Cas shook his head. “Doubt there were more than a few flakes of gold to begin with.”

“Dean wanted me to go with him. I told him it was stupid to go, but that’s his way. Half-cocked, knee-jerk decisions.”

“Dean did say you were the smart one.”

“Well I don’t know things turned out any better for me staying behind.” Sam finished his glass. “Dean didn’t tell me much in his letters. He was...he was alright out there, wasn’t he? Pa’s death hit him hard and I know he was still reeling from it when he left.”

“I really only knew him in passing. But he seemed to be enjoying himself just fine.”

Sam nodded. They drank, watching the game of faro. It ended with James and the others conceding defeat and Dean stacking the coins he’d won. 

“Come on, Sammy,” Dean called. “Come play.”

Sam shook his head. “I’m good.” He refilled his glass. Dean’s eyes met Cas, but he didn’t extend an invitation. Not that Cas minded. He wasn’t keen on losing any of his money. 

James though, spoke up. “How about your other friend?” he asked Dean, looking at Cas as he spoke. “He any good?”

“Nah,” Dean said. “You want an easy win, invite him to play.” James laughed and motioned for Cas to join. Cas dragged his chair over.

“What’s your name, pardner?” the other man at the table asked. 

“Cas.”

“Len,” the man said. “What’s your choice? Faro or poker?”

“Don’t matter to me,” Cas said, knowing he’d lose anyway.

“Faro it is,” James said, dealing out the cards. 

They began to play. “You fellas headed out west or going back east?” the woman, who Cas had learned was named Mia, asked as she grabbed a card from the deck.

Cas was about to answer, hoping to keep their stories straight with what Sam had told Missouri, when Dean spoke up. “Out west. Looking for work on ranches.” _Guess they planned that story,_ Cas thought.

“You should try Parkerton,” Mia said. “Hear with the railroad passing through now, the ranches need help keeping up with the demand for more meat back east.”

“Good to know,” Dean said. “We’ll be sure to pass by that way.”

“What’d you say your last name was?” Len asked.

“Del Mar,” Dean said without hesitation.

“Thought so. Any relation to Daniel del Mar?”

“Daniel? Where’s he from?”

“Deluth.”

“Ya know, we might be related on my mother’s side. I seem to remember her saying we had relations in Deluth. An uncle, maybe. He’s a sly bastard, ain’t he?” Cas looked at Len nervously, wondering why Dean was carrying on the charade.

Len laughed, though, buying into the tale. “That he is. Right ornery.”

“That’s what people say about this fella.” Dean jabbed his thumb at Cas. Cas furrowed his brow. Everyone laughed.

“He don’t look the type,” James said, smiling at Cas.

“Oh just wait until he loses a few games.” Dean shook his head and grinned. “He’s got a reputation for not smiling. Honest truth.” His eyes flitted to Cas’s.

Len guffawed. “That so?” James asked, smiling.

Cas grabbed a card from the deck. “‘Fraid so. Doctor thinks I might have a condition.”

James laughed and Cas glanced at Dean. The corner of Dean’s mouth lifted in a smile before he dropped his head to look at his cards.

A rush of cool air came into the room and Cas looked over his shoulder to see the front door open as two young women walked inside.

“Hiya girls,” Missouri called. “Your regulars?”

“Thanks, Missouri,” one said, leaning against the bar and smoothing down her stick straight brown hair. 

“You’re gonna catch pneumonia walkin’ around outside without any coats or nothin’.” Missouri slid two glasses forward.

“Aw, it ain’t that bad,” the other girl, a short redhead, said. She scanned the room and smiled at Cas. Cas looked away.

Len whistled low. “Those gals sure are lookers.” He leaned forward. “This town may be small, but we’ve got the best whorehouse.”

James snorted. “Like any of ‘em have ever given you the time of day.” The two women came up to their table and Dean looked up at them. 

“Hiya boys,” the redhead said. 

“Evenin’ Anna, Ruby,” James said.

“Hey gals,” Len said too eagerly. Anna looked past him and Cas followed her eyesight to Dean.

“You’re new,” she said, moving to Dean’s side. “What’s your name?”

“Dean.” He smiled up at her and she rested a hand on his shoulder. Cas looked away and organized, then re-organized, his cards.

Ruby ran her finger over the rim of her glass. “Who’s been winning?” she asked. “You showing ‘em how it’s done, James?”

“More like they’re showin’ me.”

“Game’s not over yet,” Dean said, setting down a card. Ruby looked Cas over and he flushed, then her eyes flicked over his shoulder to where Sam was sitting alone, still going over the newspapers. She moved past their table to Sam.

“What’re you up to?” Cas heard her ask. He saw Dean frown, watching her.

The game ended and Dean won again. Len let out a string of curses but agreed to another game. Missouri came over with another pitcher. They were the only ones left in the restaurant now.

“One more,” James said, leaning back in his chair. “One more, before I lose a lot more than I bargained for.”

“I’ve lost plenty already,” Mia said sourly.

“Aw, come on,” Dean said. “There’s always a chance. You playing, Cas?”

“Guess so.”

“See,” Dean said, grinning at everyone around the table. “He’s willing to risk a few.” He placed a small stack of coins in the middle of the table. “A small bet this time, alright?”

“You’re not workin’ together to cheat us now, are ya?” Len asked, setting his empty glass down hard and staring Cas down.

“Hey now,” James said. “It’s just a friendly game.”

Len refilled his glass and frowned as James shuffled the cards. Cas watched Dean, but he didn’t seem worried about the way the moods were turning. Anna had slid a chair up close to Dean’s and was resting a hand on his arm, talking to him. Dean seemed distracted, though. He kept glancing behind Cas, at Sam and Ruby.

Cas turned in his seat and saw Sam laughing, leaning close to Ruby. Her hand was on his knee. The pitcher was empty.

“Come on,” Ruby said. She stood and held out her hand. Sam looked up at her, then took it and stood, kicking his chair back a bit. He struggled getting his coat on and she helped, laughing. They made to walk past the table where Cas and Dean sat.

“Hey,” Dean called, and Sam turned, a flash of annoyance in his eyes. “You alright?”

“I’m fine. I’ll catch up with you guys later.” The table had grown quiet as they watched Dean and Sam’s exchange. 

Dean stared at Sam and his jaw worked, but he nodded slowly. “You know where we’re staying?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, walking towards the front door. Ruby held onto his arm and glanced back at them, waved. 

They turned back to the game and Dean tapped his knuckles on the table, then laughed. “He’s such a lightweight,” he said. “Someone has to look out for him.” He smiled at Anna and picked up the cards James had dealt him. Despite his nonchalant attitude, his eyes were scanning the cards too quick to actually be studying them.

They played, Len swearing a steady stream. Mia was quiet, intent on the game. Cas played half-heartedly. The whiskey had settled in his stomach, mixing with the tire of a long day to put him in a haze.

“Got him!” Len crowed, pulling Cas back to the game. Len placed his cards down, trumping Dean’s, and scooped the coins off the table into his hand. 

Dean shook his head. “Got lucky that time.” He pushed his chair back a bit. “Well, good playing with you folks, but I reckon it’s time to hit the sack. Ready to go, Cas?”

“Yup.” Cas stood and grabbed his coat. 

James shook Dean’s hand. “Nice meeting you. Good luck with finding work.” He extended his hand to Cas and Cas took it. “Pass on through again, alright?” He smiled, his brown eyes warm in the lamp light. Cas nodded and smiled back.

“Oh, so you do smile!” James said.

“Looks like your story was bullshit after all,” Mia said to Dean, buttoning her coat.

“No surprise there,” Cas said. 

“Well I’m offended,” Dean said. “Y’all are ignoring the goddamn miracle this is.” He caught Cas’s eye and winked. Cas looked away, began putting on his coat.

“Had a hell of a time, but I beat you in the end,” Len said, stumbling a little as he stood. 

“That you did,” Dean laughed. “Don’t know how you managed it.” 

Cas brought their glasses to the bar. Missouri was sitting on a stool, dozing. She startled when Cas set the glasses down. 

“Headin’ out?” she asked. 

“Yeah. Sorry to keep you up so long.” 

She waved her hand. “No worries. I told Ms. Barnes to expect you boys. It’s the house with the white porch, not a two minute walk thata ways.” She pointed to the right. 

“Thank you.” Cas looked for Dean. He was talking to Anna who was pouting, holding onto his arm.

“Sorry,” he heard Dean say. He pulled away from Anna and walked to Cas, raising his eyebrows. “Night, Missouri.”

“Night. You boys be safe now.” 

“Yes, ma’m,” Dean said, and Cas tipped his hat as they stepped into the cool night.

Dean untied Tucker and held the reins. “Missouri said just a few houses down, right?” Cas nodded. “Alright, we can walk.” 

The air was chilly, and the combination of the shock of leaving the warm restaurant and the effect of the booze made Dean’s head feel light. They led their horses down the street, mostly empty now though voices and light streamed from the saloon and the brothel across the street. Dean looked up to see two girls sitting on the 2nd level porch.

“That girl back there,” he said. “Anna or whatever, sure was giving me a hard time. Saying I owed her something for her hanging around me all night. Had to give her money to get her to go away.” He glanced up at the brothel again, wondering about Sam. “He’s not usually like this. Sam, I mean.” He looked at Cas, who cocked his head. “Doesn’t usually go off with a girl. Or get drunk, even. He’s the responsible one.”

“He still is,” Cas said dryly. 

Dean nodded and walked faster, embarrassed at showing his concern for Sam. Of course Sam was fine. But he knew Sam was still torn up about Jess, and he wasn’t looking forward to dealing with Sam’s inevitable guilt in the morning.

They reached the house Missouri had directed them to and Dean knocked on the front door, not wanting to be too loud but seeing no lights inside. The door swung open a moment later and a woman stood in the doorway.

“Took you boys long enough to show up,” she said, holding her dress robe closed around her nightgown.

“Sorry,” Dean said, but the woman was already turning around.

“Horses can be put in the stable out back. I’ve got some cots laid out for you in here.”

After taking care of their horses, Dean and Cas went inside. The woman, who Dean assumed was Ms. Barnes, held a lit candle in a holder and directed them to a back room. It seemed to be a common room—two armchairs on one wall, a grandfather clock in the corner, and an oil lamp on a small table next to three cots. 

“I’ve got a full house so I couldn’t give yous your own rooms,” she said. “There’s supposed to be a third one of yous, ain’t there?”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “My brother Sam. He’ll be coming in later.”

“I’ll leave the back door unlocked, then. Hopefully he has enough sense to come in that way. There’s a washroom down the corner. The privy’s by the stable.” She rummaged in her robe pocket. “Here’s some matches for the lamp.” She pulled out a box and held it out, to no one in particular. Dean stepped forward to grab it. As he did so, he realized in the low candle light that her eyes were clouded, unseeing.

“Thanks, Ms. Barnes.”

“Call me Pam,” she said. “Night now.” She closed the door to the room and Dean heard her steps shuffling down the hallway. 

“You see her eyes?” he asked. “I think she’s blind.”

“Huh.” Cas sat on a cot and began unbuttoning his vest. 

Out of his coat, Dean took the small drawstring bag he held his money in and weighed it in his hand. “Good winnings tonight.” He opened the bag and took out several coins, counting them. “Here,” he said and Cas looked up. Dean held out the money. “You bet about this much, right? In all?”

“No,” Cas said, waving Dean away. “You won it, it’s yours.”

“Take it. We’re traveling together now and it ain’t much anyways.” 

Cas hesitated, then took the money. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Dean sat down on a cot, leaving the third one empty in between him and Cas. He slipped off his suspenders and fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. Chancing a glance to his right, he saw Cas wince as he bent his arm. 

“You gonna need stitches for that?” Dean asked. 

Cas looked up at him, then down at his arm. “Nah. I’ve had worse.” He looked at Dean again, then straightened and pulled up the edge of his shirt. In the flickering light, above Cas’s left hip, Dean could see a thin white scar, at least two inches long. “Got in an argument with a guy at a saloon, coupla years back,” Cas said casually. “Pulled a knife on me.” He dropped his shirt. 

Dean blinked and looked away. “What happened to the guy?” he asked, untying his boots. 

“Don’t know. I knocked him out and didn’t stay in town long enough for him to wake. He has his own scars from the fight though, I’m sure.”

“Damn.” 

Cas unfolded the blanket lying on his cot. “Truth is, he was too drunk to see straight. Didn’t take much to get away.”

“Woah, stop,” Dean said. “You’re ruining the story.”

Cas laughed. “Right.” He stretched out on the cot and pulled the blanket over himself. “Goodnight."

“Night.” Dean finished taking off his button-down shirt, leaving on the flannel shirt he wore underneath. He turned down the lamp and laid down. Sleep was tugging at him, but he stared at the ceiling, eyes straining to see any details in the dark. It was bothering him, the way that girl in the restaurant hadn’t interested him. _I was too worried about Sam,_ he decided. It didn’t mean anything. The clock ticked. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Dean woke to Sam coming into the room. “Shit,” Sam muttered, bumping into the table. He was holding a candle holder, the candle’s flame wavering and casting odd shadows on the wall. 

“You mind keeping it down?” Dean whispered, sitting up.

“Sorry.” Sam sat on the empty cot between Dean and Cas. “That lady out there gave me hell. I wasn’t thinking straight, knocked on the front door and woke her up.” He rubbed a hand over his face. 

“Everything alright?” Dean asked. 

“Yeah, yeah.” Sam set the candle holder on the floor and began pulling off his boots. Dean looked at Cas. He hadn’t moved. 

Sam untied his boots slowly and pushed them under his cot and began to unbutton his shirt. Then he dropped his hands and stared at the candle. The clock chimed twice. Dean waited, knowing.

“I miss her so much,” Sam whispered. He dropped his head into his hands. 

Dean swung his legs off the cot. He didn’t know what to do. What could he possibly say? He stayed still. 

Sam lifted his head and sniffed. “Sorry.” He wiped at his eyes. “I think I’m still drunk.”

“It’s okay,” Dean said. He cleared his throat. “Reckon you have as much a right to tears as anyone. More, really.” Sam nodded slowly. “Get some rest.” Without a word, Sam laid down and pulled up the blankets, curling up to fit on the cot. 

Dean stared at the floor. At the wavering shadows the candle made. Cas hadn’t moved, but Dean thought he was probably awake, listening.

When he thought Sam might be asleep, Dean rose and pulled on his coat and boots. He left the room as quietly as he could. The floor creaked as he walked into the kitchen then eased the back door open and stepped into the cool night. It was too warm, too close in that room. He began to breathe easier outside. 

The one time Sam had needed him most, out in Windrixville, and he hadn’t been there. For what? The faint chance of striking it rich, finding gold? The lure of the open land with few people and less law? Pa had dragged him and Sam in all directions. It was all he knew. Sam had settled down, found a girl. Somehow Dean could never picture himself ending up like that.

He walked as far as the barn. Leaning against the outside wall, he struck a match, the small flame crackling to life and burning in his vision. He shielded the small flame from the cool breeze to light a cigarette and when it caught, inhaled deeply.

He hadn’t wanted to tear up in front of Sam, though seeing Sam cry had brought him close. Crying in front of their pa had been cause for getting smacked. It was a lesson he had learned young and couldn’t outgrow. 

The cold was cramping his right hand so he transferred the cigarette to his left to shove his right hand in his coat pocket. He took another drag and waited for his heart to calm.

His head was feeling clearer, at least. In the restaurant, playing faro, he’d actually had a good time. When was the last time that had happened? Cas had surprised him, going along with his tales.

Cas wasn’t much for faro, that was for sure, though Dean knew he wasn’t playing for the game anyway. Had seen the way Cas and James looked at each other.

Dean pushed off the wall, dropped his cigarette, and ground it into the dirt with the heel of his boot. It was too cold. Now he just felt exhausted.

As he walked back to the house, he thought he heard a sound, like a soft step behind him. He began to turn and felt a blunt thud on the back of his head. Then only the sensation of falling as a deep darkness filled his vision.


	4. Ghost Riders in the Sky

Cas woke to a scream.

He jolted up. It was silent in the house except for the ticking of the clock in the corner. His heart pounded. Had he only dreamt it? Then he heard a crashing noise somewhere upstairs.

Sam mumbled, “What the fuck?” and Cas fumbled in the dark before managing to light a candle. Sam was sitting up in bed, but Dean’s cot was empty, the blankets pushed back. 

Cas got up, pressed his ear to the door. “Get up,” he whispered to Sam. 

“What time is it?” Sam asked. He stood slowly, rubbing at his eyes. Cas startled at another high-pitched scream—drawn out, then abruptly cut off. Sam froze and stared at Cas. “What’s going on?”

“Shh,” Cas cautioned. Footsteps pounded on the stairs. It sounded like multiple people and Cas heard a man’s voice yell, “Search the house!”

Cas threw on his coat and boots. “I think the Marauders found us.” He grabbed his gun and made sure it was loaded.

“The Marauders?” Sam asked. He looked at Dean’s cot. “Where’s Dean?” His head whipped to the door. “Is he out there?”

“I heard him leave, I don’t know how long ago. I fell asleep.” Cas looked around the room. No windows. They’d have to venture outside the room to get out. “Grab your stuff. We’ll make a run for it.”

Sam shouldered his bag and cocked his gun. Someone in the house let out a long wail that made Cas’s skin crawl. 

“On three,” Cas said, gripping the doorknob. He looked at Sam to make sure he was ready. Sam nodded. “One, two, three!” He flung open the door and rushed into the hallway. He heard footsteps and yelling on the stairs as he ran into the kitchen. A bullet exploded into the wall above his head and he ducked. 

“They’re down here!” A man’s voice yelled. The kitchen was lit only by the pale moonlight streaming through the window and Sam fumbled to open the back door. Cas fired two shots into the hallway, ducking back to the side. Someone yelled in pain.

Sam opened the back door and immediately drew back to the side. A shot rang through the open door and Cas saw a man standing guard outside. 

“Y’all are trapped in there!” a southern twanged voice called from the hallway. Instantly, Cas knew the voice, but he pushed it out of his mind because his hands were beginning to shake. He kept himself flat against the wall and waited.

“Come out here with your hands up!” the voice yelled. Cas glanced at Sam. He was frozen against the opposite wall. “Alright,” the voice said. “Have it your way.”

Five quick shots rang out in succession, hitting the kitchen table and wall. Then two men rushed into the room. 

Cas aimed his gun at the first one and fired, but the shot missed and the man knocked the gun out of his grasp. Cas ducked a punch aimed at his face, catching the blow on the side of his head.

He punched his attacker squarely in the jaw. The man stumbled back and Cas shoved him onto the ground before scrambling to grab his gun. The trigger glinted in the moonlight but before he could grab it, he was tackled to the ground. The man on top of him grabbed his hair and slammed his face onto the floor. He rolled Cas over and in his dizziness, Cas recognized him. Richard Roman. One of the bastards who stood by as Gabe died and did nothing. Richard paused, seeming to recognize him as well.

In that split second, Cas pushed Richard off, then grabbed his gun, and shot three times. One bullet found its mark. Richard jerked back, a crimson hole appearing in his forehead. Cas stumbled to his feet and fired again and again until his gun clicked empty. Richard lay still, his features obscured by the spray of blood. Cas pulled his eyes away. Sam was pinned to the ground and the man over him was raining punches on his head. Cas started forward, then felt a gun pressed into his back.

“Drop the gun, Cas,” a low voice said. Levi.

Cas slowly lowered his arm holding his gun. The gun on his back prodded him and he dropped it, heard it clatter on the kitchen floor. 

“Turn around.” Cas slowly turned to face Levi, who let out a chuckle. “Cas Novak. Didn’t expect to find you here. Thought you’d be long dead by now. That’s enough, Rafael,” he called, keeping his eyes on Cas. “Abby will want Sam alive.” 

“Where’s Abby?” Cas asked. “She send you to do her dirty work?” He forced his voice to stay steady, pressing down the white-hot rage rising in him.

Levi snorted. “You’ll see Abby soon enough. She won’t be expecting us to drag you in.”

Rafael dragged Sam up to stand next to Cas. “Won’t be expecting you either, Sam,” he said. “This was only a happy accident, being in Riverton at the same time. I’m afraid we never got acquainted in Windrixville.”

Sam glared at Rafael, one eye already swollen and blood running out of his nose. “Where’s Dean?” he spat.

“Dean?” Levi frowned. “Oh, the one we found outside? Chuck’s taking good care of him. I’d be more worried about yourself right now.” 

Rafael snickered. “I can’t wait to see what Abby does to you,” he said to Cas. “She’s been itchin’ for payback.” In his periphery, Cas saw Sam look at him, confusion in his eyes, but Cas refused to acknowledge him. He kept his focus on Levi, waiting for a chance.

“You’ll pay for what you’ve done, that’s for sure,” Levi said, his eyes hard as steel looking at Richard on the floor then back at Cas. “All of it.” He stepped back, keeping his gun trained on Cas. “Time to get a move on.”

Rafael pushed Sam towards the back door and Cas started to turn to follow them. Then he heard the click of a rifle.

“Not so fast now,” Pam said. She stood in the hallway behind Levi, holding a rifle with one hand. Her other arm hung at her side at an odd angle.

Levi grimaced. “I thought we killed everyone upstairs,” he said to Rafael. He sighed and began to raise his hands, then spun around and fired. Pam dropped, and Cas took advantage of the distraction to tackle Levi. Levi’s gun discharged. The bullet hit the ceiling, causing wood splinters to rain down. 

Cas punched Levi in the face again and again then seized a knife from Levi’s belt. As he attempted to stab Levi, he heard Sam struggling with Rafael behind him. Levi growled and grabbed Cas’s arm. His grasp was strong and Cas felt himself losing his grip on the knife. He grabbed Levi’s arm with his free hand and yanked down. A crack and Levi yelled in pain.

Cas pressed the knife blade into Levi’s neck until a line of blood appeared. “This is for Gabriel,” he said and slashed the knife. Levi choked then fell silent, his head turning to the side.

“Cas, come on, let’s go!” Cas felt Sam pull on his arm and he stood unsteadily. He ran after Sam out the back door, looking back to see the kitchen in disarray, pooled blood gleaming in the moonlight.

“Where’s Rafael?” he asked. 

“He ran, got away.” They reached the stable and Sam looked around. “Where’s Dean’s horse?” 

The gravity of their situation was hitting Cas. “We need to get out of here now, before any more Marauders show up.” He mounted his horse.

“But they said they have Dean—”

“We’ll find Dean, I promise, but we need to go, now!” Cas dug his heels into Angel’s side and she galloped out of the stable into the night. He heard Sam following and he headed past the houses, to the outskirts of town, into the desert beyond.

_"Drop the gun, Cas."_

_Source: Adventure Magazine 1919-04-03_

* * *

“What the fuck are we supposed to do now? If Abby finds out—”

“She’s not going to. We’re going to find Cas and Sam Winchester and bring them to her.”

Dean blinked. His mind was fuzzy, distorting the voices he was hearing. He raised his head, wincing at the sharp pain behind his eyes which the movement caused. Two men stood in front of him, arguing. He was in a bedroom, gagged, sitting on the floor. Trying to move, he realized his arms were tied behind his back to a bed frame. 

“He’s awake,” one of the men said. He walked to Dean and crouched down in front of him to pull off his gag. “So you’re Dean, Sam Winchester’s brother, huh?”

Dean swallowed and stared up at the man. How had he gotten here? At the restaurant, then Pam’s...and then he remembered being knocked out. But where were Sam and Cas? A door opened and the man turned to look at who came in.

“Townspeople have found out what you did,” a female voice said. “It ain’t lookin’ good.” The man stood and Dean saw Ruby shutting the door behind her. She looked at Dean and he glared at her. “You bringin’ him to Abby?”

“Not until we have Sam and Cas,” the second man said. Dean breathed a sigh of relief. So they were safe, for now. Ruby raised an eyebrow and the man pointed at her. “And you ain’t saying shit about this to Abby before then.”

Ruby raised her hands. “Alright, alright.” She gestured to Dean. “Whatcha gonna do with him?”

The first man turned to look down at Dean. “I reckon Sam will want him back.” He crouched down again. “You know where Sam and Cas might've run off to?”

“Go to hell,” Dean snarled. Quick as a whip, the man swung his fist. Dean’s head snapped to the side and he tasted blood. 

“You wanna try that again?” the man asked. 

The bedroom door opened again and an older woman entered. “Out. Now,” she commanded. 

“Naomi,” the second man started.

“Don’t give me that shit, Chuck,” the woman, Naomi, said. “It’s bad enough you’ve made Ruby think she’s some kinda spy for the Marauders, now you’re bringing captives into my house? Killing townspeople? I run a trusted establishment. I won’t have you associated with me.” She looked at the man who had punched Dean. “Well, Rafael?”

“Alright, alright, quit your hollerin’.” Rafael stood and looked at Chuck. “We need to get out of here before daylight anyway.”

“Now, hold on," Ruby said. "You’ll tell Abby I tipped you boys off to where Sam was, right? I ain’t working for free, ya know.”

“Lot of help you were,” Chuck said. “You neglected to mention Cas was with them.”

“How the fuck was I supposed to know who Cas was?” Ruby shot back. “I can’t keep up with everyone you boys have it out for.” 

“Enough!” Naomi said, raising her voice. 

“Fine.” Rafael flicked open a knife and began cutting at Dean’s bonds. 

“Try anything and there’ll be a bullet in your head,” Chuck said, pointing a gun at Dean.

Dean doubted he’d be able to do much even without a gun trained on him. His head was spinning and still felt muddled. What had Ruby said? That the Marauders had been searching for Cas too?

Rafael pulled him to his feet and re-tied his arms. He led him out of the room and down the stairs. Girls poked their heads out of doors to watch and Dean spotted Anna. She smiled slyly and waved as they passed.

Out back, Dean spotted Tucker tied to a hitching post.

“Let’s just get a few miles out,” Rafael said. “Then wait ‘till daylight and regroup.” He pulled Dean towards Tucker, Dean dragging his feet more than he needed to. 

“Want me to do the honors?” Chuck asked. He came up to Dean, and before Dean could figure out what was going on, Chuck punched him in the jaw and he slumped forward, falling into unconsciousness once again.

* * *

“Cas, stop, hold on!” Cas heard Sam yell as they rode. He turned his head to see Sam pull up his horse, but Cas didn’t slow. They hadn't been riding for more than a quarter of an hour, and his heart was still pounding. Sam rode up up next to him. “Cas, wait.” When he didn’t stop, Sam pulled his horse ahead and rounded, blocking Cas’s path.

Cas pulled Angel up just short. “We need to keep moving.”

“Dean might be back there. We’re not leaving without him.”

“We can talk once we reach somewhere safe. For all we know, the Marauders are after us now.”

“Safe? Where're we going to go if they’re on our trail?”

“Well let’s keep moving at least.” Cas made to ride away, but Sam reached out and grabbed Angel’s bridle.

“I said, we’re not leaving Dean behind.”

“I don’t want to leave him either! But that’s their plan. They’ll want you to go back, probably trade yourself for him. Or play dirty and trap us. The latter more likely.”

“Fine,” Sam said. “Let them. That’s what I wanted, isn’t it? To have a chance to get back at the Marauders? Well, they found us first and maybe I can manage to kill a few before they kill me.”

Cas stared at him. Sam was talking tough, but he was slouched in his saddle. “Do you even hear yourself?” Cas asked. “That’s a suicide plan. That’s not what we agreed. If we’re gonna get revenge, we’re gonna do it right. They’ll keep Dean alive, I promise. And we’re gonna rescue him. But we need to find someplace to hide for the night and come up with a plan.”

Sam let go of Angel’s bridle and Cas started to ride away.

“Why did they know your name?” Sam called after him. “They knew you, they said they were looking for you.”

Cas closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He’d been waiting for that question. Sam rode up next to him. “Long story,” Cas said.

“Then start talking.”

Cas knew he couldn’t keep it a secret anymore. “I used to ride with the Marauders. Me and Gabriel, years ago.”

“Gabriel? Your friend from the orphanage?”

“Yes.” He glanced at Sam but couldn’t read his expression. “We left the orphanage together, tried to find a living out here. It was rough, but then we joined the Marauders. They weren’t like this back then, Abby wasn’t their leader.” He shook his head. “I would’ve never joined them if I knew what I’d get roped into doing.”

“What happened?”

“At first, it was just small robberies. Not preferable, but we needed to survive. Then Abby joined and, I don’t know, we listened to her. We kidnapped a sheriff for ransom, robbed a train where Abby started shooting the passengers—that’s when I knew I had to get out. But I couldn’t just leave, I was in too deep. They would’ve shot me. And I couldn’t leave Gabriel. We argued about it. He said the people we were killing, robbing, weren’t innocent. They were corrupt lawmen, rich folk who stole from the poor in their own ways. But there wasn’t a distinction for Abby. She killed plenty of innocent people, families.” He stopped talking, stunned by how much he’d revealed. He'd never talked about this to anyone, ever. But seeing the Marauders had brought back the memories and they were pouring out.

“How’d you get out?” Sam asked. 

Cas hesitated. There was only so much he could tell. “Abby shot Gabriel. We were robbing a farmer and his family and...Gabe refused to kill the farmer.” He gripped Angel's reins and avoided looking at Sam. The memory of Gabriel’s death had played over and over in his head so many times that he only felt a numb pain remembering. “I ran away that night and been hiding from the Marauders ever since.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me and Dean any of this?” Sam asked slowly.

Cas snorted. “Tell you I was part of the Marauders? I know what you’re thinking about me now. Probably want to shoot me.” He stared at the moonlit landscape before them. “I know what this all sounds like and I can’t excuse what I did. But not a day goes past that I don’t regret it. I’m trying to make it right, by going after the Marauders. But you can take your leave. I won’t hold it against you.”

He chanced a glance at Sam. Sam only stared at him before looking away and shaking his head in surrender. “You know about the Marauders. Where they’ll be, who they are. I can’t pass that up." He looked at Cas. "And whatever happened before, you're seeking revenge now, just like me. I can’t promise Dean will be as forgiving, though.”

Cas looked back out over Angel’s head. He nodded. “Well, then.” 

“Now, about Dean.”

In the quiet, his heartbeat slowing, Cas contemplated their situation. Sam was right, they couldn’t just flee. Rafael had said they’d only been in Riverton together coincidentally. Chances were Abby didn’t know anything yet about what had happened. He searched the desert around them and remembered.

“I know where Dean will be,” he said. 

Sam looked at him sharply. “Where? How do you know?”

“There’s an oasis near here that the Marauders make frequent use of. They know I know. They’ll bring Dean there. Only problem is, they’ll be waiting. And we don’t know how many there’ll be.”

“You think the whole gang of Marauders will be there?”

Cas thought, then shook his head. “No. If I had to guess, the men who ambushed us weren’t under direct orders from Abby, or she would have been in Riverton. Rafael got away, and they said Chuck had Dean. It might just be the two of them now.” He pointed to the canyon walls looming to their left. “There’s a valley we can cross through up ahead, gain some distance 'case Rafael and Chuck travel this way. We’ll lie low for the night and head to the oasis in the morning, scout it out.”

Sam looked at the canyon then back at Cas. “You sure about this?”

“Pretty sure.” He half-expected Sam to say never mind and ride away, but Sam sighed and nodded. Cas spurred Angel and they rode on.

* * *

Dean spit blood into the dirt. 

“I said.” Chuck grabbed Dean’s collar, pulling him up. “What did Cas tell you about us? Any names? Hideouts?”

Dean squinted in the first rays of the sun rising above the horizon. He’d woken up hogtied to Tucker then must have passed out again because the next thing he remembered was dropping to the ground and his arms being tied behind him.

Now he stared up at Chuck, feeling a spot above his left eye throb. “I don’t remember.” 

Chuck shoved Dean backwards and stood. Dean pushed himself up onto one elbow.

“He doesn’t remember,” Chuck said sarcastically to Rafael, who was standing close by, watching and smoking a cigarette. Chuck continued, muttering, “If I’d been there when you ambushed Winchester, Cas wouldn’t still be breathing.”

“You keep sayin’ that,” Rafael said. “but seems to me you were all too eager to bring Dean back to Naomi’s instead of joinin’ the ambush.”

Chuck sputtered and Rafael raised his hand. He dropped his cigarette onto the ground and stepped closer to Dean. “Why were you and Sam riding with Cas?”

Dean shrugged. “We met him coupla towns back and it just worked out that way.”

“He tell ya about all the years he rode with the Marauders?”

“No.” Dean wondered if Rafael was bluffing. Then again, what did he know about Cas? Cas had been secretive from the very start. 

“I bet he told you some sob story. Made it sound like he was on some righteous quest for revenge.” Rafael bent a knee to look at Dean on his level. “Bullshit. All of it. Truth is, Cas was one of us Marauders until he got too greedy. Robbed us one night and ran away. Though not before he attacked Abby, shot some of our men. He’s lucky he got away.” He shrugged. “Or not, seeing as how now he’s got double the hell to pay. Only reason he wants us dead is so we don’t kill him first.”

Dean’s heart sank, but he kept his face straight. He didn’t want it to be true, but Cas knew too much about the Marauders. Cas didn’t care about what the Marauders had done to Sam, about Sam’s revenge. He was a selfish, lying bastard, and Dean had fallen for it. 

“Now, you really want to protect Cas?” Rafael asked. “He worth holdin’ your tongue and gettin’ the livin’ shit beat outta ya?”

Dean looked over Rafael’s shoulder at Chuck, who was smirking. They might be telling the truth but far as he knew, Sam was still riding with Cas. There was nothing he could tell them without hurting Sam. He met Rafael’s eyes. “Sorry,” he said. “Can’t help you.”

Rafael’s eyes narrowed. “Wrong answer.” He reached into his coat and pulled out an Arkansas toothpick. 

_Fucking hell_ , Dean thought. Chuck came up behind him and yanked his coat aside on one arm. Rafael flicked the blade open and held the knife close to Dean’s upper arm. Dean flinched as the cold metal cut through his shirt and touched his skin. He gritted his teeth as Rafael dug the blade in deeper. Blood ran down his arm, down his sleeve.

Rafael suddenly swiped the blade, slashing through his arm, and Dean let out a yelp before he could stop himself. Chuck laughed.

“You changin’ your tune?” Rafael asked. Dean only glared up at him. Rafael shrugged. “Have it your way.” And he sliced the blade again.

* * *

The sun had begun to rise when Sam and Cas crossed out of the cool, shadowed valley into the vast plains. Cas found himself fighting the sleepiness muddling his brain.

So the Marauders had found him. He’d had close calls before, but he’d managed to avoid them all these years. And now they had Dean. Lord knew what they were doing to him, though he could guess. 

He wondered what Rafael and Chuck were telling Dean about him. He was grateful to Sam for being willing to look past his time with the Marauders. Dean, however, would be a different story. He’d been standoffish from the beginning, and now he had a real reason to be. 

For a moment, when he had met Dean in Sutter Creek, he’d imagined his life could change. Foolish hope. Cas was an outlaw, a fugitive. Even his deal with Sam and Dean was tentative. The sooner he accepted his sorry life, the better.

He noticed a homestead ahead. A distant house and barn in an overgrown field, marked off by a partially collapsed wire and wood fence.

“Looks abandoned,” Sam said. 

“Maybe we can squat in the house.” They approached the structure that from faraway seemed to be the house. As they got closer, though, Cas realized it was only one wall. The rest had been destroyed in a fire and was exposed to the sky. 

“The barn it is, then,” Sam said. They rode to the large barn doors and dismounted. Cas slid open one of the doors and it screeched in protest. Inside it was dark and musty warm. Dust particles floated in the air. 

They led their horses inside and Cas looked around. “There’s hay bales in this corner,” he said. All he wanted to do was sleep. He heard a click and froze. 

“Cas,” Sam said. Cas slowly turned to see, framed in the light of the door, a small woman holding a gun to Sam’s head. Cas slowly raised his hands.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to find another place to stay the night, boys,” the woman said. 

“Listen, please,” Cas said. “We don’t want any trouble. We just want to get a few hours of sleep and then leave.”

“This barn’s already occupied and I don’t intend to share,” the woman said. She shifted her feet. “Though I might be persuaded, for a price.”

“What do you want?” Sam asked, turning his head slightly to try and see the woman. “Food? Money?”

“Hmm. Money will do. You there.” She nodded at Cas. “Show me what you have.”

Cas dug into his saddlebag and pulled out all the coins he had. He stepped closer and held it out to the woman. He could see now she was a redhead, wearing pants tucked into tall boots. She took the money and counted the coins on her palm. 

“Alright.” She holstered her gun. “I’m staying up top in the loft. You can have down here.”

“Thanks,” Sam said. Cas caught the twinge of sarcasm in his voice and the woman must have too because she smirked. She clambered up the rope ladder to the loft and pulled it up after her. 

Cas looked at Sam. “I’m too tired to care,” Sam said with a weary shake of his head.

After leading Angel to a stall, Cas laid his bedroll on a pile of hay and sunk down. Before he fell asleep, he heard Sam shifting, restless.

* * *

Dean woke, if possible, even more uncomfortable than when he’d fallen asleep. He had slept fitfully, curled awkwardly on the rough ground, hands bound behind him while Chuck and Rafael took turns keeping watch. 

His dreams had been strange, unsettling. He had dreamt of his current situation, but it was Pa standing over him, not Chuck or Rafael, and he wouldn’t stop asking, “Where’s Sam, Dean? Where’s Sam?” And he had dreamt he was back in Riverton, at Moseley’s, but he and Cas were the only ones in the room. Cas sat across from him at the table, and Dean looked at the pile of money in the middle and realized he didn’t have any cards in his hands, didn’t even know what game they were playing. He could only stare mutely back at Cas, into his blue eyes…

Chuck and Rafael were packing up camp. Dean lay still with his eyes closed, trying to hear their conversation.

“You sure we shouldn’t go after them?” Chuck asked. 

“Cas knows the oasis is close by. He knows we’ll head there. If he and Sam want Dean back, they’ll show up.”

Dean heard footsteps by his head then felt a kick in his side. He opened his eyes to see Chuck standing over him. 

“Up and at ‘em, sleeping beauty,” Chuck said, grabbing Dean’s arm and pulling him to his feet. Dean winced as the cuts along his arms stretched. Chuck led him to Tucker, and Rafael held a gun to his head. 

“Don’t try anything.” 

Dean heard a blade flick open and flinched, then realized Chuck was cutting the rope around his wrists. He tensed. Did he dare?

Chuck bent down to grab a bundle of rope at his feet and Dean swung his arm to knock the gun out of Rafael’s hand. He kicked Chuck to the ground and punched Rafael in the face.

He scrambled to get on Tucker and was halfway up when Rafael grabbed his collar and yanked him backwards.

Dean hit the ground hard, the air knocked out of him. Chuck kicked him hard in the ribs and Dean grabbed at his leg. Chuck came crashing down, cursing. Dean pushed himself to his knees but was knocked back down by a blow to the head. He stayed down this time, curling up to shield himself from the volley of punches and kicks Chuck and Rafael rained on him. When they finally relented, Chuck yanked Dean to his feet. Dean swayed uneasily, conscious of a sharp pain in his side. 

“You try something like that again,” Rafael panted. “And we’ll decide you’re not worth the trouble keeping alive.” He punched Dean in the stomach. 

Dean doubled over, retching. They dragged him to Tucker, draped him over the saddle, and tied his hands to his feet under Tucker’s belly. Dean fought the urge to panic, to struggle. He heard Chuck and Rafael mount their horses, then Tucker was walking. 

Dean struggled to breathe as the saddle pressed into his chest. A few ribs were broken, judging from the sharp pains piercing him. The sun bore down on his neck and bare head. Below, the ground swayed, and Dean shut his eyes against the wooziness the movement induced.

He tried to summon all his anger. Rafael and Chuck would pay all right. He’d rip their fucking heads off the first chance he got. His mind began to slip and he welcomed the numbing sleep enveloping him. Mercifully, he fell unconscious. 

* * *

The first sensation Cas become aware of upon waking was hay poking him. He sat up and brushed hay off his coat, fighting the urge to sneeze.

Sam was rolling up his bedroll. “High time we got going,” he said. 

Cas rubbed at his eyes and stood. The night before seemed like a dream. Seeing familiar faces, ghosts from his past. He wondered how Sam was holding up after finally getting a face to face with the Marauders. “You alright?” he asked him.

Sam tightened the saddle around his horse. “I’ll be better once we rescue Dean.” He brushed dirt off the saddle, adding quietly, “and kill those bastards.” He looked at Cas. “You sure he’s alright?”

“Well, he’s alive, at least. One thing the Marauders know how to do is leverage hostages for their own use. Chuck and Rafael will be counting on us showing up.” He heard a scraping noise from above and looked up to see the woman from the night before lowering the ladder from the loft. She sat on the edge of the loft, her legs dangling.

“You say the Marauders?” she called down.

“What’s it to you?” Sam asked.

She cocked her head. “Sounds like you’re going after them. To save Dean, whoever he is.”

“Sounds like you were eavesdropping,” Cas said. 

She shrugged. “I overheard.” She began climbing down the ladder as she continued, “I may or may not be looking for the Marauders myself.” She jumped the last few feet to the ground. Cas noticed the double holster she wore. Flipping her long braid behind her shoulder, she asked, “So you know where they are?”

“You’re a bounty hunter,” Cas said.

She shrugged and crossed her arms. “You could say that.”

“This is between us and them,” Sam said. 

“How 'bout we make a deal?” the woman asked. “Lead me to them and you get a third of the reward.”

“We’re not interested,” Sam said. “Besides, we won’t be leaving them alive.”

The woman pursed her lips. “Well, from what I heard, it might benefit y’all to let me help. The Marauders might be expecting you two, but they won’t be expecting a third. And I get a reward for a body, alive or not.” She looked at Cas. “You get to kill them with my help, and I get to keep the prize.”

She was making sense. “Sam,” Cas said, before Sam could respond in the negative. Sam frowned at him. “It wouldn’t hurt to have her along.”

“You really think you’re going to be much help?” Sam asked her.

“Oh, because I’m a woman?” Her hand went to one of her guns. “There’s only one way I respond to such an outdated, ridiculous sentiment.”

“No, no,” Sam flustered, “I just meant—”

“We don’t know you,” Cas cut in. “And the Marauders don’t mess around.”

“I know. I’ve been tracking them for quite some time now. I’ll be good in a fight, don’t you worry.”

Cas glanced at Sam, then nodded. “Sounds like we got a deal then.” It was a risk, but what benefit did she have to hurt them? She’d had plenty of opportunities to kill them when they arrived, while they slept, and yet they were still alive.

“Great. I’ll grab my stuff and we’ll go.” The woman began climbing up the ladder.

“What’s your name?” Cas called. 

She looked down at him. “Call me Celeste.”


	5. Turn to Hate

Dean passed in and out of consciousness. When Tucker came to a stop, he was only half aware that the constant rocking had halted. The rope around his hands and feet tugged, then he was on his back, blinking up at the sun. He tried to lift his head and nearly blacked out. Shutting his eyes, he waited for the spinning to stop.

“Hey.” A sharp boot kicked him in the side. “Don’t go dying on us.”

Dean rolled over onto his side and vomited. Whoever stood over him—it sounded like Chuck—laughed.

His stomach emptied itself of the little it had quick enough and left him dry heaving. Finally, his stomach stopped revolting and he caught his breath. He wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve, realizing his hands weren’t bound. Not that it mattered—his stomach spasmed with every movement he made and he knew he couldn’t put up another fight.

He looked up at Chuck. “You guys are some sick bastards.” His voice cracked, his throat dry from breathing in so much dust from Tucker’s hooves. His head felt like it might split open.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Chuck dragged Dean up, pulling on his cut arm, and black spots spotted Dean’s vision. He fought to stay awake. Chuck half-dragged him past a few trees, then shoved him forward. Dean’s knee hit the ground hard and he swore, then realized he was on the bank of a river. 

“Drink up,” Rafael called from where he was tying his horse to a tree. “You won’t be getting many other chances.”

Dean didn’t have to be told twice. He gulped water down until he nearly choked and couldn’t physically drink anymore. Plunging his hands into the water, he splashed water onto his face. His stomach lurched and he hoped he wouldn’t be sick all over again.

The cold water brought his senses back to him, and he looked around at where they had stopped. A rocky outcrop, a small cluster of trees, and the river. From the sun’s position, it was late afternoon. 

“Alright, get up,” Chuck said, and Dean rose unsteadily to his feet. Chuck motioned with his gun. “Walk to that tree over there.”

Dean walked over to the place Chuck indicated. He ended up sitting with his arms bound behind him around the tree.

“Now we wait for Cas and your brother to show up and join us,” Rafael said, standing up from securing the rope around Dean's arms. 

Chuck pressed his gun to Dean’s forehead. “Try anything and I’ll put a bullet through your head.”

“You’ve made that clear, yeah,” Dean said. Chuck smirked and followed Rafael a few feet away to set up their camp.

Leaning his head against the back of the tree, Dean tried to shift his arms to alleviate the pressure on his wrists. It was no use. He scanned the horizon. They had a nearly 360 view, so Sam and Cas wouldn’t be able to approach undetected unless they found a way to silently scale the outcrop. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. He was essentially useless. Chuck and Rafael were eating dinner and he tried to stop watching them. The last time he’d eaten had been at that restaurant, what, two nights ago? One night? It was a blur. 

Sam would be worried sick. And Cas? Cas had been part of the Marauders. Didn’t make sense, didn’t fit with who he’d figured Cas to be. But what did he know about Cas anyway? 

The sun was in his eyes, half-hidden behind a mountain ridge out in the distance. The pain in his side has settled to a constant burning, his arm was smarting, and his head was pounding. He almost wished he could pass out again, but he resolved to keep awake—the whole night if he had to. Sam would come for him. And one way or another they would get out of this mess. 

* * *

Cas studied the terrain as they rode. In the distance he could see the outcrop against which the oasis jutted. They’d have a limited way of approach. He glanced back at Celeste.

“You ever stop at the oasis yonder?”

“Nope.”

“The Marauders hide out there every once and while. That’s where we’re headed.”

“Good to know.” She looked at him quizzically. “So how’d you two get tangled up with the Marauders anyway?”

Sam shot a warning glance at him. They’d agreed to keep Sam’s identity a secret. If Celeste knew, she might try to play both sides and hand Sam over.

“They tried to rob us,” Cas said. “And Dean, his brother, got caught. They’re holding him hostage.”

“Or they killed him,” Celeste pointed out. 

“Dean’s alive,” Sam shot back.

Cas agreed with him there, though he wasn’t sure what state Dean would be in. He couldn’t deny the dread he felt, though it was tempered by the anticipation for a fight. 

“So they went to the trouble of securing a hostage,” Celeste said. “You carrying anything important?”

“None of your business,” Sam said. 

“You’re right,” Celeste said. “I was just surprised to hear they robbed you. I was thinking more along the lines of ambush, on account of you being Sam Winchester and all.”

Sam pulled his horse to a stop and rounded on Celeste, making her pull her horse up short. Cas reigned in Angel and moved his hand to his hip holster.

“Why the hell do you say that?” Sam asked.

Celeste rolled her eyes. “I’m a bounty hunter. I need to know these things. And you’ve got a pretty price on your head.” Cas looked at Sam, planning their next moves, but Celeste spoke up. “Don’t look so worried, fellas. Just because I’m a bounty hunter don’t mean I have no morals. If I wanted to turn you in for the prize, you’d know. I don’t work for those bastard Marauders.”

“That’s a relief,” Cas said coolly. 

Celeste eyed him. “Who are _you_ , though? Why are you helping Sam?”

“I want the Marauders dead.”

Celeste nodded. “We have the same goal then.” She jerked her reins. “Let’s get going.”

Sam and Cas followed hesitantly. Cas had had plenty of run-ins with bounty hunters when he’d first escaped from the Marauders, but he’d had to worry about them less as time passed. 

“I don’t like this,” Sam said in a low voice.

“Why would she reveal she knows who you are if she was planning something?” Cas asked. 

“I don’t know,” Sam frowned. 

Cas rode up next to Celeste. “Alright, so if you’re not working with the Marauders, why’re you in this line of business?”

“Now you wanna get personal?” She shrugged. “Need to make a living somehow. Plenty a outlaws wanted by the law. And no one ever suspects the girl. Been doing this since I was in short skirts.” She grinned. “And you wouldn’t believe the information I get from brothels. Make a few friends at those and you’ll learn everything you want.”

Cas frowned and looked back at Sam. “You hear that, Sam? Those gals were hanging around us in Riverton and you left with, what’s her name?”

“Ruby?” Sam asked. “Um, I mean, yeah, she could’ve been a spy. Seems a bit unlikely.” 

“You’d be surprised,” Celeste said.

Cas turned back in his saddle. “Shit. Never even thought of that.”

Celeste sighed. “Always underestimated, us women.”

“So how many bounty hunters are on our trail?” Cas asked.

“Is that a joke? Look, I’m not friends with every bounty hunter. In fact, I try to keep away from them. But I’m sure plenty. Everyone knows the Marauders will pay up.” She indicated Sam. “Pretty rough what they put him through.”

“Yeah. But we’ll make some of them pay tonight.”

Celeste grinned. “Love to hear it.”

* * *

Dean strained to hear any noise of approach, but the only sounds were Chuck and Rafael occasionally speaking and the fire crackling. Night had fallen, and Dean’s arms were asleep. It was cooler, at least, a welcome relief.

Chuck laughed at something Rafael said and Dean rolled his eyes. Sam and Cas had to show up tonight. Spending another day with Chuck and Rafael would be hell. 

Behind him, he heard a soft thud and froze. Chuck and Rafael kept talking and Dean listened, holding his breath. Silence. Probably just a small animal.

“Well, well, well,” Rafael said. He stood and looked out into the desert, facing away from Dean. “Looks like they decided to show up after all.” Dean now heard horses approaching.

“Sam Winchester!” Chuck called, standing and cocking his gun. 

“I’m here for Dean.” Sam’s voice was faint and Dean couldn’t see him, far away as he was from the campfire’s light. 

“I’m afraid we can’t hand him over just like that,” Rafael said. 

Dean felt something touch his arm and he jolted. 

“Shhh.” He turned his head and saw a young woman crouched at his side. 

“Who—” he whispered.

“I’m going to get you free,” she said. Dean looked back at Chuck and Rafael, but they were still facing away, speaking to Sam.

“Take me in Sam and Dean’s place.” That was Cas. Dean frowned. Why would he offer that?

“Cas in place of Sam Winchester,” Rafael said. He clicked his tongue. “I’m afraid that won’t cut it with Abby.”

The rope around Dean’s wrists went slack. “I’m placing a gun here,” the woman whispered, appearing again at Dean’s side. “Wait for the signal.” 

She disappeared before he could ask what signal. Then he didn’t have time to wonder who she was because Sam said, “Show us Dean,” and Chuck turned on his heel and headed towards him.

Dean kept his arms behind him, but once Chuck got close, he’d see he was free. Dean tensed, waiting.

Suddenly, a shot exploded from behind him and Chuck dropped to the ground. Dean scurried behind the tree as shots came from Sam and Cas’s direction. He grabbed the gun the woman had placed beside him. Peering out from behind the tree, he couldn’t see anyone in the firelight. Then Rafael raised his head from behind a tree a few yards ahead, shot in Sam’s direction, and ducked again.

A shot rang out again behind Dean, and he turned to see the woman crouched behind a boulder a few feet behind him. Dean shook his hands, trying to get feeling back in them.

Suddenly, someone grabbed him from behind. He fell backwards and Chuck lunged at him, trying to grab his gun. Dean shoved him off. Chuck’s shirt was wet, and in the low light Dean could tell it was blood. Still, Chuck put up a fight, clawing even as Dean grabbed him and tried to pin him down. One of his arms hit Dean across the face and stunned him for a moment. 

“Out of the way!” Someone pulled him off Chuck and Dean rounded on the figure. 

Cas. 

Ignoring Dean, Cas pointed his gun at Chuck and fired. Chuck screamed in pain, grabbing his shoulder. He cowered on the ground.

In a flash of movement, Dean saw the woman jump out from behind the boulder and run towards the center of camp, firing.

“You deserve to rot in hell for what you did,” Cas said. He was trembling and Dean took a step back. Cas struck Chuck in the side with his boot.

“Fuck you,” Chuck said between gritted teeth. Cas fired again and Chuck screamed. Blood ran out of his leg. 

Spotting the gun he’d dropped, Dean picked it up. As he raised it, Cas shoved him aside. “This is between me and Chuck,” he snarled. The rage in his eyes was unsettling. 

“Then fucking kill him already!” Dean yelled. Cas turned back to Chuck and hesitated. Chuck was glaring, silently shaking in pain. 

Cas fired once, and Chuck dropped back, still.

It was silent now. “Sam?” Dean yelled. He walked towards the campfire. He couldn’t try to understand what had just happened. “Sammy?” Rafael was on his stomach on the ground. Blood pooled out of a hole in his head.

“I’m here, I’m fine.” 

Dean caught sight of Sam walking into the firelight. Relief flooded him. “You alright?” he asked, grabbing Sam’s shoulder.

“Yeah, you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean dropped his arm. “Took you guys long enough.”

“You’re welcome.” Sam smiled.

“You do that?” Dean asked, pointing to Rafael. Sam nodded. Dean studied him. “You good?”

Sam nodded again and looked over Dean’s shoulder. “You get the other one, Cas?”

“Yup.” 

Dean turned to see Cas walking towards them, wiping his hands on his shirt. His casual demeanor enraged him. “What the fuck was that about?” Dean asked. He started towards Cas. “Why did these guys know you?”

Cas looked at him steadily. “We had a history.”

“Cut the bullshit. They told me you were part of the Marauders.”

“It’s true.”

Dean stared at Cas for a moment then swung a punch at him. Cas jerked back, blocking Dean’s fist with his arm. Dean made to punch him again, but Sam grabbed his arm. “Dean! Enough!”

Dean pulled away from Sam’s grasp and wheeled on him. “He lied to us! He’s a fucking lunatic!” He turned back to Cas. “You get the fuck away from us.” Cas only stared back fixedly. 

“Just give him a chance,” Sam said. “Let him explain.” 

Dean glared at Sam. He was fuming, but the adrenaline was wearing away and he could feel his legs starting to give out.

“Woah, Dean, are you alright?” Sam grabbed him.

“I’m fine. I’m fine!” But he let Sam pull him towards the fire. He sat heavily on one of the bedrolls Chuck and Rafael had laid out. The woman who had freed him stood nearby, arms crossed, watching them. “And who the fuck are you?” he asked.

“Name’s Celeste. I just helped save your ass.”

“This is ridiculous,” Dean said. His side was aching again. _Stop being such a pussy_ , he thought to himself. He glared up at Cas. “What the fuck are you still doing here?”

“Listen, let’s just calm down,” Sam said. “Cas, can you grab some food?” Cas hesitated for a moment before he went to the horses. 

Sam crouched down next to Dean. “What they’d do to you?”

Dean shook his head then regretted it when he felt dizzier than before. “Just the regular, ‘tell us where your friends are or else’ crap. I’m fine.”

“Well you look like shit.”

Dean gave him a fuck-you look, too tired to come up with a comeback, and Sam grinned. “I’m just glad you’re alive,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Cas came over with a saddlebag and offered it to Dean. Dean ignored him and Sam grabbed it. “Thanks.” He took out a loaf of bread and gave it to Dean. “Cas, tell Dean what you told me, about the Marauders.” Cas sighed and sat down by the fire. He looked up at Celeste. 

“Well now I’m curious,” she said. She sat down cross-legged.

“Listen, I was part of the Marauders years ago,” Cas started. 

“Wait,” Dean interrupted. “We have anything to drink?” Celeste held out her canteen. “I mean a real drink.” 

Sam rolled his eyes and stood. “I’ll get it.”

“It was a mistake,” Cas continued. “I should’ve known better, but I was young and new to the West, trying to survive. And this was before Abby, before the Marauders became what they are today.” He looked at Dean, but Dean refused to meet his eyes. “When Abby killed my friend Gabriel—he was in the Marauders too—I left. There was a fight, they tried to kill me, and I got away. Now we both want each other dead. That’s all there is to it.”

“Chuck and Rafael told a different story,” Dean said, taking the flask Sam offered him. 

Cas shrugged. “I’m sure. I’m not asking you to believe me—”

“Good.” Dean took a long drink from the flask.

“I shouldn't have lied to you and Sam,” Cas said. “But you would’ve never listened to me otherwise.”

“Cas is helping us now,” Sam said, standing next to Dean, his arms crossed. “That’s all that matters. His time with the Marauders is in the past.”

“You’re sick. You know that, right?” Dean asked, meeting Cas’s eyes. “That whole, whatever that was, with Chuck. You’re deranged.”

Cas snorted. “Reckon I am.” He held Dean’s gaze.

“How ‘bout we all just get some rest?” Sam suggested. “Regroup in the morning.” 

He looked at Celeste and she nodded. “I’ll sleep for a few hours before heading out to get my reward,” she said.

“Thank you for your help,” Cas said, looking at her. 

“Just doing my job. You boys ever have more Marauders to kill, you find me. I’m usually biding my time in Rebel Corners.” She stood and went to her horse.

Dean ran his hand through his hair. There was too much going on. All he wanted to do was sleep.

“I’ll take first watch,” Cas said.

“I can take a watch,” Dean spoke up. He’d be damned if he acted weak again.

“No, Dean,” Sam said. “Get some rest. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

Dean didn’t argue. He stretched out on whoever’s bedroll he was sitting on. He saw Cas walk off a ways and Celeste spread her own bedroll, and then he was asleep.

* * *

Dean heard Sam calling his name as if from miles away. He opened his eyes. It was bright and Sam was rolling up his bedroll.

“What time is it?” he asked, slowly sitting. He hadn’t moved once during the night and his body was stiff. 

Sam glanced at the sky. “‘Bout noon. We figured we’d let you sleep.” Dean winced as the pain registered in his side and arm. “Anything broken?”

“Just a cracked rib. Or two.” Dean looked around the camp. Cas was nowhere to be seen.

“Celeste left a few hours ago. Cas is watering the horses.” 

Dean still felt half-asleep. Last night was slowly coming back to him. All that was left of Rafael and Chuck were blood stains on the ground. Celeste must've taken the bodies to claim her reward. “Does getting revenge feel as good as you hoped it would?” he asked.

“I won’t know until all the Marauders are dead.” Sam stood. “Cas says we should head out because once Abby finds out what happened, the Marauders will be all over here.”

"You really still trust him, huh?” Dean grabbed his flask and took a drink.

Sam looked down at him. “Yeah. I wish he hadn’t lied and I’m not defending his time with the Marauders, but he isn’t either. He’s trying to make it right. And he’s still our best bet for—”

“Getting revenge,” Dean interrupted. “Yeah, I know.” He stood, slowly. “He’s a bad motherfucker, Sam. You can’t change my mind on that.”

“Fine.” Sam stared down Dean. “But you’re going to get along with him because he’s not going anywhere.”

Dean shook his head and turned away. He saw Cas come out from the grove of trees, leading the horses. Cas glanced at him. “Ready to go?” he asked Sam.

“Yup.” Sam grabbed Mickey’s bridle. 

“What about breakfast?” Dean asked. 

“Grab something from the pack and come on,” Sam said. “We need to get a move on.”

“Ruby will tell Abby what happened,” Cas said, tightening the saddlebag on his horse. “I’m sure she’s been keeping the Marauders updated.”

“What, Ruby?” Dean asked, taking a bite out of the small portion of bread they had left. “That girl you slept with, Sammy?”

Sam sighed. “Cas thinks she’s a spy.”

“She is, she was talking to Chuck and Rafael at the brothel.”

Sam froze. “What’d she’d say?”

“She wanted money for turning us in to those sons of bitches.” He realized Sam was looking at him with a pained expression. “It’s not your fault. How could you know?” He threw his pack onto Tucker. “Hope she was as good a whore as a spy, at least.” He mounted, clenching his jaw at the jolt of pain.

“You wanna bandage your ribs?” Sam asked. Dean waved him away. Cas had since mounted his horse and was watching them.

“So where we headed, Sam?” Dean asked, deliberately avoiding looking at Cas.

Sam frowned at him. “I don’t know. Maybe you should ask Cas.”

“I don’t have anything to say to that sonuvabitch.”

“We’re headed to Coalwood,” Cas spoke up. In his periphery, Dean could see Cas was speaking to him. “There’s forests out that way, so if the Marauders come after us they won’t be able to see us from miles away.”

“I could've told you that, Sam,” Dean said. “Ya know, I don’t think we need Cas around anymore.”

“If you have something to say to me, say it to my face,” Cas said coldly.

Dean turned on him. “I’ve already told you what I think about you. You’re a lying, scheming, son of a whore—”

“Alright, shut it,” Sam cut in.

Dean glared at Cas and Cas glared back. Sam rode his horse in between them. “I’m not spending all day mediating between the both of you, so get your shit together.” He started riding off. “Let’s go.” Cas turned and rode after Sam and after a moment, Dean followed.

They rode in silence. Dean’s head had never stopped hurting from the day before and riding in the sun wasn’t helping. He spent his time riding trying to distract himself from all his aches and pains by thinking of every insult he could call Cas.

Cas had really sat there, telling them a sob story about his best friend being killed, randomly, by the Marauders. Dean had felt sorry for him. But it was all a sham to get their sympathy. To use them. And Sam wanted to ignore it because he was so blinded by his desire for vengeance. They’d be better off without Cas—that, Dean was sure of. Of course, Cas knew the location of the Marauders’ hideout. He’d keep that one close to his chest to keep Sam dangling. Son of a bitch.

Sam and Cas were talking up ahead. He hadn’t realized the sun was so low on the horizon. The terrain had changed to light woods, providing shade but slowing their pace some. 

Sam slowed to ride next to Dean. “We’ll stop for the night soon. You holding up okay?”

“Will you stop asking me that?” Dean snapped. “I’m not bitching and moaning about my problems.”

“Sorry. I feel bad, that’s all.”

“Well fucking get over it.” 

Sam raised his hand in defeat. Ahead, Cas drew up and dismounted ahead under a cluster of trees. “Figure this is as good a place as any,” he said when they rode up. 

Dean dismounted and tied Tucker’s reins to a tree. He looked at Sam, who had started gathering brush into a small pile.

“Here,” Dean said, grabbing the tinderbox from his pack, "I can start the fire." 

Sam stood. “We raided Chuck and Rafael’s stuff,” he said. “Got plenty of food now.”

“Now we’re talking,” Dean said.

They ate as the sun dipped below the horizon and the trees' individual silhouettes amassed into one gloom.

“I wonder how much Celeste is getting for turning in Chuck and Rafael,” Sam said.

“I can’t believe you made friends with a bounty hunter,” Dean said. “You’re lucky she didn’t try to turn in your ass, like that bitch Ruby.”

“Yeah well,” Sam looked at Cas, “we needed her help, so we risked it.”

Dean shook his head. “How’d Ruby recognize you anyway? The Marauders handing out wanted posters with your likeness? Or,” he pointed his spoon at Cas, “she recognized you. Bet you knew her well from your time with the Marauders.”

Cas shook his head. “She wasn’t around then.”

“Cas isn’t the one who got us into this mess,” Sam said.

“Not sure I believe that.” 

“No, I screwed up.” Sam set down the can he was eating out of.

“What?” Dean looked at him sharply.

Sam took a deep breath. “I told Ruby who I was.” 

Dean dropped his spoon into his can with a clatter. “Tell me you’re joking.” 

Sam looked at his hands. “I told her about the trial, about...Jessica.” He shook his head. “I wasn’t thinking. I can’t believe I was so foolish.” 

Dean stared at Sam in disbelief. “You told—hold on, I can’t fucking believe this. You really—” He wanted to start yelling, ask Sam how he became a lawyer being such an idiot, but he forced the words down. He glared at Cas, daring him to say anything against Sam. Cas only shook his head and looked away.

“You were drunk, Sam,” Dean said, trying to sound calm. “And like you said, you weren’t thinking—”

“No—don’t tell me I’m not to blame.” Sam looked up at Dean. He looked close to tears. “You got captured, tortured, almost killed, because of me. You didn’t even want to be here in the first place. You were out, living your own life, when I made you quit your job and go on some idiotic crusade. You’ve been trying to talk me out of this since day one.”

“Hey, you think I’m here because you forced me? This was my choice.” Dean glanced at Cas, angry that Cas was here watching Sam break down. “Whatever happened with Ruby, it was a mistake, a fucking big one. But nobody got killed. We’re all good. And we’re going to move on from it, alright?”

Sam only shook his head slightly, staring at the fire. Unable to come up with anything to say—anything, that is, that wasn't a four letter word—Dean stood and walked off. Sam was worse off than he’d thought, making such a blunder. He couldn’t get a break. First Cas, now this.

They settled down for the night not long after, Sam volunteering to take first watch. Dean laid down, exhausted. He looked at Sam, unsure what he could possibly say to make Sam stop hating himself. Cas, mercifully, had kept his mouth shut. 

Sam caught him watching him. “I’m so sorry, Dean.”

“Don’t say—you don’t have to keep apologizing.” Dean turned away and closed his eyes.

When he opened them, it was because the sun had woken him. _What the hell?_ he thought, pushing himself up onto one elbow. Sam had been supposed to wake him for second watch. 

He looked around their camp. Cas was still asleep. Sam was nowhere to be seen. Knowing him, he probably stayed up the whole night, berating himself.

Dean sat up, his body aching in protest. The fire was out, reduced to fine ashes. He looked around the camp again and realized Sam’s horse wasn’t tied with the others. He stood, his heart beginning to race. Then a flash of white caught his eye. A rock held down a piece of paper next to his bedroll. He snatched it up and read the scrawled words:

_I’m sorry, Dean, b_ _ut this isn’t your fight. I have to do this on my own._ _You and Cas can go your separate ways, I’ll take care of myself._

Dean swore and turned, scanning the area again as if to prove to himself what he was reading.

Sam was gone.


	6. Nothing Fades Like the Light

“So Ruby sent word that _four_ of our Marauders ambushed Sam Winchester and Cas but _somehow_ let them slip away?”

Kip nodded. “Ruby said Rafael and Chuck didn’t want you to know. Said they’d go after Sam and Cas themselves because they had Sam’s brother as ransom.”

Tapping her gun in its holster on her hip, its weight suddenly heavy, Abigail Dawn breathed in deep. “Fucking imbeciles,” she muttered. “Why didn’t Ruby come straight to me when she saw Sam and Cas in town?”

“She didn’t know about Cas. Levi and the others happened to be in town and she didn’t want to waste any time.”

“You said Chuck and Rafael went after Cas and Sam again?” Kip nodded. “Well, I’m not expecting them to make it out alive, seeing as how they fucked up so badly their first try. If Sam and Cas haven’t killed them, I will.” She was seriously considering shooting Ruby as well, but she had been useful in the past. “Send word to Ruby. I want to be updated on Cas and the Winchesters’ every move. Tomorrow we’ll begin traveling towards Riverton.”

Kip nodded and left the room. Abby stared up at the ceiling, at the long, thin cracks and water stains. She absentmindedly felt the rough, puckered skin where her left eye had once been.

So Cas was alive and helping Sam Winchester. All the better. Now she could kill two birds with one stone.

* * *

Cas woke to Dean swearing. He sat up, surprised to see it was bright out. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Sam’s gone,” Dean said, strapping his bedroll to his horse. 

_Gone?_ Cas looked around the campsite. “Where’d he go?”

“Damned if I know.” Dean mounted his horse. “Get your ass up. We need to catch up with him before he does anything stupid. Anything else, I should say.”

Cas stood and rolled up his bedroll. “So he ran away?” he asked, still trying to figure out what was happening. Why would Sam leave?

“Yes, now come on.” Dean scanned the area around them. “He couldn’t have gotten very far. Did he ever mention going off on his own?”

“No, never.” Cas mounted Angel and held the reins. Dean stared out at the hilly, tree-spotted land, worrying his lip. “Where would he head?" Cas asked. "Back to town?” Then realization dawned on him. “Ruby.”

“Ruby?” Dean looked at him. “What the hell could he want with her?”

“She knows where the Marauders are, or at least how to contact them. I’m assuming Sam went off to get revenge on his own. That’s where I would start, if I was him.”

Dean looked back out at the land. “Alright. We’ll start there.” He snapped his reins and took off.

Cas didn’t dare risk conversation with Dean as they rode. Dean stared straight ahead, a fierce concentration in his gaze, and they didn’t stop riding, barely slowed their pace, as the day waned.

Sam had been pretty distraught last night, but this was ridiculous. Much as Cas wanted revenge, he knew better than to go into a fight half-cocked. He didn’t blame Dean for being worried, but he couldn’t help feeling annoyed. He’d be damned if they missed their opportunity to strike the Marauders at the mine because they were chasing Sam. 

The previous day and its chaotic events returned to him. He’d been envisioning his revenge for so long and now it was finally coming to pass. It was infectious. At the same time, however, he hated losing control of his emotions at the sight of the Marauders. He could hardly even remember killing Chuck. 

Cas readjusted his hat. No. Dean was getting in his head, making him feel guilty for killing Chuck like he did. Dean didn’t understand, would never understand. Chuck and all the rest of the Marauders deserved everything they had coming to them, especially Abby. He’d be damned if he was going to start feeling contrite.

The day turned to night and Cas watched Dean for any signs of fatigue. They had to stop eventually, if only to give the horses a break. He was reluctant though to suggest resting, knowing Dean would lay into him.

As the stars came out, Dean slowed his pace. Cas kept a few paces behind.

“If he’s not in town, if we’re going in the wrong direction—” Dean started.

“Yeah, yeah,” Cas said. He saw a prairie dog scurry past and duck into a hole.

“I should’ve known last night this would happen. He thinks everything is his fault.”

Cas nodded, though Dean couldn’t see him. “He’ll see reason soon enough,” he spoke up. 

“Right,” Dean scoffed. “Well, he doesn’t want me around, says this isn’t my fight.” He looked back at Cas. “Seems plenty fine having you around, though. I’m surprised you weren’t a part of this, didn’t go off with him.”

Cas shook his head. “I didn’t have a clue.” 

Dean turned back around and Cas nudged Angel to ride up next to Dean. “Sam wants you around more than he wants me, I’m sure." He didn’t know why he was trying to reassure Dean. He frankly didn’t give a shit if Dean wanted to feel sorry for himself. "Can't blame him for feeling guilty about what happened, though.”

Dean looked at him sharply. "It ain't his fault."

"I didn't say it was," Cas replied. He wasn't going to say Sam was completely without blame, but he wasn't angry at him, not really. He'd heard how upset Sam was that night talking to Dean after returning from the brothel. Grief was a bitch, Cas knew that. 

They lapsed back into silence. The plodding of their horses’ hooves became a steady rhythm and Cas found himself nodding to sleep. 

Finally, Dean hauled reign. “We get up as soon as it’s light out,” he said, swinging down from his horse. Cas didn’t argue.

* * *

The closer they got to Riverton, the antsier Cas noticed Dean becoming: adjusting his hat, shifting in his saddle. _You better be in town_ , Cas thought. He didn’t know where they’d look for Sam next.

They rode past Ms. Barnes’ house. The front door had a splintered hole around the doorjamb and flowers were arranged on the front porch. 

The center of town was mostly empty. A few old men sat on the stoop of the general store and watched them ride by. A woman crossed the street, holding the hand of a young girl.

They hitched their horses at the brothel. No girls in sight. 

“That whore better be here,” Dean muttered. Cas followed him inside.

The front door led into a sitting room, gaudily decorated with flowery wallpaper, faux gold mirrors, and vases. A young woman lay on the sofa reading a book. She lowered it as they came in.

“Hiyah fellas,” she said.

“We’re looking for Ruby,” Dean said. 

The woman rolled her eyes and sat up. “She’s not here. But she’s not the only one who’s got a few tricks up her sleeve.” She winked at Cas.

“We just wanna talk to her,” Cas said quickly. 

“Ohhh.” She looked Cas up and down. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for Abby’s men.”

“We’re not—” Cas started.

“Yeah, yup, Abby sent us,” Dean cut in. “So if you could tell Ruby to get her ass over here, we’d appreciate it.”

“Meg, what’s going on?” Cas turned to see an older woman standing in the doorway to the room.

“They’re here for Ruby,” the woman, Meg, said, standing.

The woman frowned. “More of you, huh?” Then she peered closer at Dean. “I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?” 

Cas looked at Dean, who was shaking his head, “Uh, no, I don’t—”

“Those two jackasses had you here all trussed up a few nights ago.” The woman crossed her arms. “What’s going on?”

“Oh, I forgot I was here that one night,” Dean said. “Naomi, right?” Naomi just stared at him. Dean waved his hand dismissively. “There was a misunderstanding. Those two thought I was a bounty hunter out for Abby, but Abby had actually hired me, we worked it out.” He motioned to Cas. “We just really need to speak with Ruby.”

Naomi shook her head. “I swear, I’m ‘bout done with the Marauders and all your shit. Ruby’s not here.”

“So I’ve heard. Where is she?”

“Don’t know. She disappeared sometime last night and I haven’t seen her since.”

“You’re not worried?” Cas asked, looking between Naomi and Meg.

“Ruby’s always running off to do Abby’s bidding,” Meg said, sinking back down onto the couch and picking up her book. “It’s a wonder she hasn’t been fired yet.” She gave Naomi a pointed look.

“You see a tall man around here?” Dean asked. “With a beard, goes by the name Sam?”

“Can’t say I have,” Naomi answered.

“Hey, you mean the one who was here the night some of y’all killed Ms. Barnes and her residents?” Meg asked. 

“Yeah. That’s the one.”

“Ruby wouldn’t shut up about him. He’s wanted by you guys or something, right?”

“Did you see him last night?” Dean asked impatiently.

“He was hanging out across the street. I told Ruby and she looked kinda spooked.” Meg’s eyes widened. “He didn’t kill her, did he?”

“Meg! Why would you say such a thing?” Naomi searched Dean and Cas’s faces. “Ruby hasn’t shown up at wherever you’ve been staying, with Abby?”

“No,” Dean said, glancing at Cas. “No, not at our camp, where we usually stay, with Abby—”

“Actually,” Cas cut in, “We were hoping Ruby would tell us where Abby is. We’ve been up North for a while and don’t know where she’s been staying lately.”

Naomi shrugged, but Meg spoke up. “Try Rebel Corners. Ruby was always heading out there.”

“Thanks,” Cas said. 

They made to leave and Naomi cleared her throat. Dean rolled his eyes and dug into his coat. He handed Naomi a few coins and she took them haughtily. “Comin' in here, thinking you can just talk to my girls,” she muttered as they left.

“Come again!” Meg called. The front door snapped behind them.

“Fuck,” Dean said as they untied their horses.

“So. Rebel Corners.” Cas mounted Angel. “We got a lead.”

“On Ruby, possibly. We still don’t know where the fuck Sam is.” 

“If Sam got to her first, he’ll have gotten the same information,” Cas pointed out.

Dean looked back at the house and Cas saw Naomi watching them through the screen door. “Let’s get out of here,” he said.

They were nearly out of town when Cas saw one of the men they'd played cards with at Moseley's, James, step out onto the front porch of one of the houses along the street. Cas reigned in Angel.

“You fellas got alotta nerve comin’ back here,” James said. He held a revolver.

“Woah, hey,” Dean said, pulling up his horse. “What happened to your townsfolk, it’s tragic, but it ain’t our fault. That was the Marauders’ work.”

James lowered his gun. “The Marauders did that?”

“We’re sorry,” Cas said. “They were on our trail, but we didn’t know they were close. We thought we’d be safe here.”

“So you led them to us,” James said. “And they murdered Ms. Barnes and her tenants because of you.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes.” Cas held James’ gaze. “It wasn’t our intention, far from it, but yes.” 

James stared back and, slowly, the anger faded in his eyes. He dropped his head and shook it. “When the others find out it was the Marauders...We sent out a posse, trying to find who was responsible. Couldn’t find hide nor hair of you three or anyone else.” He looked up. “Where is the third one of yous anyway?”

“He ran off,” Dean said. “The Marauders been tracking him for some time now. He felt it was his fault, what happened here. We’re trying to find him.”

“Well I haven't seen him.” James ran a hand across his hair. “How we supposed to fight back against the Marauders? We can’t. Don’t even know who their leader is, who any of the bastards are.”

Cas glanced at Dean, then spoke up. “After we find Sam, we’re going after the Marauders. We know where they’ll be. If you wanna be there, we’ll let you know when.”

James looked out at the street, at the houses opposite, and nodded slowly. “I’ll tell the others. I reckon they’d take you up on that offer. I would anyhow.” He looked at Cas. “Thank you.”

When James was out of sight, Dean spoke up. “What the hell’d you do that for? Inviting a bunch of folk we don’t know we can trust?”

“You honestly think you, me, and Sam can bring down the Marauders by ourselves?” Cas asked. “We need all the help we can get.” 

Dean shook his head and kept riding. Cas followed. He asked, “You think Sam killed Ruby?”

Dean glared back at him. “What the fuck is wrong with you? No. Of course not.” He looked out at the stretch of desert beyond them. “How far’s Rebel Corners from here?”

“Two days’ ride?”

“We’ll get there in one.” Dean shook his head. “Once we find Sam, we’re going to the hideout, getting revenge, or whatever, and then we’re done.” He pulled the brim of his hat lower. “You should be glad I’m letting you tag along. If killing the Marauders wasn’t so important to Sam, I would’ve left your ass by now.”

“Noted,” Cas said dryly. 

“As soon as you showed up, it was bad news. You’re the reason we’re in this fucking mess, you know that?” Dean looked at Cas. “Filling Sam’s mind with this revenge crap, using him when he’s vulnerable.”

“You know,” Cas said, getting riled, “I’m not too keen on riding with you either. I’m not having some grand ol’ time, having to put up with your bitching day in and day out.” Angel kept pace with Dean’s horse and Cas stared out at the horizon wavering in the heat.

“Aw, fuck you,” Dean said. “You saw me, didn’t you, and thought you’d have an in? Thought I’d say, ‘oh look, my old buddy Cas. Let’s trust him, Sam. Let’s help him.’”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Cas held Dean’s gaze until Dean broke it off, shaking his head. “You’re the reason I almost stayed away, almost decided to let those bounty hunters attack you and Sam.”

“Well you should’ve.” Dean looked at Cas. “You should’ve known damn well better and stayed away.” He flicked his reins and Cas let him ride ahead.

_Fucking prick_ , he thought. How he’d ever thought different about Dean was beyond him. Thinking about Sutter Creek now, what he’d done, what he'd said, it made his blood boil. The sooner they found Sam, the sooner they got their revenge and went their separate ways, the better.

Once again, Dean refused to stop to sleep even as the day turned to night. He hadn’t spoken since leaving Riverton, and Cas wasn’t about to break the silence. Only when the moon dipped in the sky and the sun began to lighten the horizon did Dean stop without a word and dismount by a grove of mesquite trees. 

Bone-weary, Cas tied Angel’s reins to one of the trees and laid out his bedroll under another. Dean walked a few feet away to piss. Cas lied down, pulled up his blanket. If Dean wanted a fire, he’d have to start one himself because Cas was too tired to mind the cold. 

Only a week ago, this situation would have been unimaginable, traveling with Dean Winchester. Or rather, unimaginable like this, with Dean furious at him. And Dean didn’t even know the worst of it, Sam neither. 

Dean came back and laid out his bedroll. He sat down, took off his hat, and ran his fingers through his hair, tousling it. He didn’t so much as glance at Cas before lying down under his blanket.

_This isn’t what I wanted_ , Cas thought, looking at the dark blue sky stained with orange towards the horizon. 

It’d been a long time since he’d traveled with someone for any stretch of time. Ever since he left the Marauders, he’d been riding alone with only brief intervals of work at various ranches. No relationships, only a few hookups with men he knew he’d never see again, and no thoughts of ever stopping and settling down.

Well, for the most part anyhow. Sutter Creek flashed in his mind and he rolled onto his side, annoyed. Why couldn’t he let go of what had happened there—especially now, with everything that had happened since? No sense in fantasies anymore. He had to move on.

* * *

Rebel Corners was bustling. Years ago, before the railroad passed through, Dean had been here with his pa, but the town was unrecognizable now. It had doubled in size—at least. Wagons, carts, and horses filled the streets, kicking up dust, and people filled the sides, weaving in and out of traffic. Dean was filled with the same restless energy that had woken him a few hours ago when they had stopped to rest. He doubted he'd slept for more than an hour or so before he was up, anxious to keep moving.

Cas hadn’t looked too keen on riding again so soon, but Dean didn’t give a fuck what Cas thought. Best scenario, Cas got so pissed, he left. As long as he wanted to hang around though, Dean wasn’t going to make it easy for him. What mattered now was finding Sam. If Sam had been stupid enough to go off on his own, hopefully he was leaving a trail.

Dean led the way down the street, though he didn’t really know where he was headed. They were only on the main street, and there must have be hundreds of side alleys branching off. It’d be like searching for a needle in a haystack, if Sam was here at all. 

Dean stopped in front of a saloon where there was plenty of activity. Patrons sat on the porch and the barn doors kept swinging open, letting in more folks than they let out. _Guess this is as good a place as any,_ Dean thought, swinging off Tucker and hitching him to the post outside. Cas followed suit.

Dean approached a squat man leaning against the porch. “‘Excuse me, I’m looking for a man.”

“Bet you are,” the man responded before Dean could finish. He spat to the side and eyed Dean and Cas. 

Dean rolled his eyes. He dug into his coat and pulled out a sheriff’s star, ignoring Cas’s look of surprise. “We’re looking for a wanted criminal. He’s tall, like really tall, has a beard, goes by either Walker or Lowry. You seen ‘im?”

“This here’s a big town,” the man said. “Can’t say I have.”

Dean walked past him to the saloon’s doors. “Thanks,” he heard Cas say to the man before catching up with him. “Where the hell did you get that?” Cas hissed as they pushed their way through doors into the crowd inside.

“Rolled a drunk sheriff coupla years ago. Comes in handy.”

They reached the saloon and the bartender nodded at them. “Whatcha havin’?”

“Actually,” Dean held up the star. “I have a few questions.”

“Yeah?” The bartender stepped closer, cleaning a glass with a dirty rag. He squinted at the star. “And who might you be?”

“Perlman. Sheriff.” The bartender looked at Cas. “He’s my deputy,” Dean added before Cas could speak. “You seen a man ‘round here going by Walker or Lowry?”

“Nope.”

“Alright.” Dean looked around him. The saloon was uproariously loud and he kept getting jostled from every direction. “You know anything about the Marauders?”

The bartender laughed. “You must be joking.” He stared down at the coins Dean slid towards him. “They know better than to come in here.” He dropped the coins into his apron pocket.

“So where do they go?”

“They favor the eastside of town. Lil’ quieter over there.”

“Obliged.” Dean tipped his hat and headed back out. 

“Eastside,” Cas said when they stood back at their horses. “Narrows it down somewhat.”

“Oh, you’re not coming.” Dean swung up on Tucker and looked down at Cas.

“What?”

“If the Marauders see you, it’s all over. You stick around here in case Sam’s nearby. Better yet, hole up somewhere and don’t stick your nose out.” He made to ride away, eager to get away from Cas for once.

“Wait, where are we going to meet up?” Cas called. “I don’t wanna have to search for you too.”

Dean looked around. “How ‘bout here? When the sun goes down.” He rode off without further comment.

_Fine_ , Cas thought. _Rather be on my own anyway._ He walked Angel down the street, keeping an eye out for Sam, though he doubted it’d be so easy. It was true being spotted by the Marauders wasn’t the best plan, but he wasn’t going to spend all day hiding.

It turned out to be more difficult than Dean had made it seem, getting answers out of anyone, especially without a sheriff's badge. He gave up after several saloons and shops and ended up drinking and eating at a saloon on a side street until the sky got dark. He made his way back to their meeting place. The streets weren’t any less crowded, perhaps now even rowdier. 

Smoking a cigarette, he spotted Dean riding towards him.

“Anything?” he asked.

Dean shook his head. “I’m out plenty of money, but it was all bullshit.” He looked around and Cas followed his gaze to the noisy crowds filling the streets.

“I hate this town,” Cas said. 

“Mhmm.” Dean turned away, as if reluctant to agree with Cas on anything. “Where’s the closest motel?”

They found one a block away, had almost missed it when Cas spotted a small sign declaring vacancy. After putting up their horses in a nearby corral, they made their way through a small door and up stairs with a handrail that shook alarmingly when Cas touched it.

A thin woman with two long braids glanced up lazily when they entered the small room off the landing. She reached for a key hanging on a pegboard behind her. “You’re lucky. Last room left.”

“That’s not going to work,” Dean said. “We need two rooms.”

The lady humphed. “Good luck finding any vacant rooms anywhere close. You’re here for the grand opening, aintcha?” Cas looked at her blankly. “The railroad. Two days from now they’re connecting our line to one from the East. Can travel all the way to Kansas. Everyone’s in town for the ceremony.” She dangled the key from her fingers. “You want the room or not?”

Cas glanced at Dean. On one hand, he couldn’t think of anything worse than sharing a room. On the other, he dreaded the thought of weaving through the busy streets again, trying to find a place with vacancies.

“Looks like you’re sleeping on the floor,” Dean said, taking the key.

“Let’s at least flip for it,” Cas said, surveying the cramped floor space between the end of the bed and the wall. 

The bed creaked loudly as Dean sat down. “It’s the floor or some alleyway. Take your pick.” He touched his side gingerly.

Cas stared down Dean, trying to decide if it was worth getting in a fight over. He decided against it and began rolling out his bedroll. He chose to ignore Dean smirking.

“So same thing tomorrow?” Cas asked, pulling off his boots and coat. “Scour the streets for any sign of Sam, bribe everyone you meet until you run out of money?”

“You got a better idea?”

“Nope.” Cas looked up at Dean. He was drinking from his flask, his adam’s apple moving up and down. 

Dean lowered his flask and caught Cas’s eye. “What?” he glared.

Cas shook his head and scratched at the bandage around his arm. The gash was healing—it didn’t hurt nearly as much—but it was still sore.

“I’m sorry searching for Sam is such a fucking bother,” Dean said. “But feel free to leave anytime.”

“Thinking about it,” Cas muttered. He pulled off his suspenders and lay down. Above, someone was stomping around. He heard Dean kick off his boots. They fell to the ground with thuds. 

The lamp went out and Cas stared at the ceiling, waiting for his eyes to adjust. The bed creaked as Dean moved around. The window let in a faint light and slowly Cas could discern the shape of the walls. 

Tomorrow he’d search more in earnest. If Sam didn’t want to be found, too bad. He didn’t know how much longer he could stand being alone with Dean. He turned over and fell asleep.

* * *

Cas woke with a jolt. The room was pitch dark and for a moment he was disoriented, his heart pounding. Then slowly the hard floor, the scratch of his blanket, and the voices outside registered, pulling him out of his dream. The same dream, for years now. The woman screaming. The man’s limbs splayed on the ground unnaturally. The weight of his Colt in his hands. The sensation that the ground was tipping. 

Cas pushed back his blanket and waited for the wave of nausea to pass. Outside in the hallway, someone walked past and laughed. Dean shifted in his sleep. As the shadowy room around him composed itself into the briefest of suggestions, Cas’s dream faded and his heart slowed its pace. 

He sat up, feeling as if a heavy stone had been dropped on his chest. The same feeling after every nightmare. He was used to a guilty conscience, and its equally burdensome counterpart: deep sorrow. It’d be there tomorrow and the day after and the next. 

Added to his guilt now were his lies to Sam and Dean. There was still so much they didn’t know, that he could never tell them—though he had to admit he felt less guilty about lying to Dean. Dean would never understand, and he was already angry at Cas for the little he did know. 

Cas laid back down, though he doubted he could sleep. Although he was irritated, he knew he couldn’t blame Dean. Dean’s response was probably less than he deserved. Even Sam had only responded like he did because he needed Cas's help. 

How foolish he’d been, to think he could ever hide his past, forget what he’d done. He stared up at what he knew was the ceiling but seemed to be an open void. As his eyes strained to distinguish some shape, some order, the darkness seemed only to extend ever deeper and further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo source:  
> DeGolyer Library, Southern Methodist University  
> View down Stockton Street. Folio_f869_s3f27_16_opt.jpg  
> Part of: San Francisco album: photographs of the most beautiful views and public buildings of San Francisco


	7. Take You Back

The saloon door swung back with a bang as Dean stepped out into the bright sunlight. He put on his hat and stepped off the porch into the street. Another bust. He’d been up and down several streets, asking about Sam, and now he was making his way down alleyways, through small saloons with patrons that eyed him menacingly when he entered. Flashing his sheriff’s badge would only make people clam up, so he’d stowed the lawman act and was posing as a bounty hunter.

Dean walked down the alley, looking for another establishment to stop in. How long had he been doing this? He looked at the sky. The sun was directly overhead. He and Cas had parted ways that morning, agreeing to meet at night like yesterday. Who knew what Cas was doing. Hopefully not getting sighted by the Marauders. The last thing Dean needed was someone else to track down.

Sam had to be close by. Unless he’d found the Marauders and gotten himself in trouble. Of course, he might not even be in this stinkin’ town.

_No_ , Dean told himself. _Sam has to be here._ He pushed away the doubts.

A woman wearing a silky dress flashed a smile at Dean as he passed. He paused. “Excuse me, ma’m. I’m looking for someone. Tall man, with a beard, longer hair.”

“Lots of people could match that description, honey,” she drawled, leaning against the alleyway wall.

“He might have gone by Lowry, or Walker?”

The woman shook her head. “Sorry. I haven’t met anyone by those names.”

“Alright.” Then, not knowing why, he asked, “Have you heard of any Sam Winchester?”

The woman’s brow furrowed. “Yeah. A man by that name came ‘round two days ago. Looked like how you described too.”

Dean’s breath caught. “He was here? He told you his name?”

“Yeah. Made a point of it. He was asking about the Marauders and I told him he better be careful. I’ve heard tales about that gang. I don’t think they appreciate anyone nosing around.”

“What did he want to know?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” The woman fluttered her hand in the air. “Where he could find them, I guess. He was rude too when I warned him. Said he could take care of himself and walked off.”

“Any idea where he went?” She shrugged. “Alright, well, thank you.” He began to walk away.

“What’s with you bastards taking up my time for free?” the woman asked and Dean sighed. He thrust a few coins at her, not bothering to count them, and kept walking.

So Sam was here. Relief flooded him, but with it came a new concern. Sam was using his real name. He wanted the Marauders to know he was here. He really had thrown caution to the wind.

Dean spent the rest of the day asking for Sam Winchester. Two other people had talked to Sam, though they couldn’t tell him where Sam had gone, and when the sky began to darken, Dean begrudgingly returned to the motel. Though he was worried about Sam, he finally had concrete evidence that he was alive and somewhere close.

Cas was sitting on the steps to the motel when Dean arrived. 

“Finally some good news,” Dean said. “Sam is here—I met some people who talked with him. He’s going by his real name, not an alias.”

“Does he have a death wish?” Cas asked. “Why the hell would he do that?”

“He’s trying to find the Marauders, isn’t he? It ain’t smart, though, that’s for sure.” He looked around. “Have you eaten? I’m starving. Where can I get some food?”

They ended up in a saloon close by. The table they chose rocked as they sat after pushing their way through the crowded room.

They ordered and Cas spoke up. “So I heard more about the railroad ceremony that lady back at the motel mentioned. Mayors from all the towns the train will pass through are coming here. Part of the ceremony is an inaugural train ride to the next town over. They’re selling tickets and alotta rich, important people signed up to ride.”

“Pretty ridiculous if you ask me.” 

“Yeah, but it’s the perfect opportunity for you-know-who.” Cas leaned forward. “They’ve held up trains before. What better than a train packed with rich folk?”

“But there’s gotta be plenty a security on the train. They’ll be on high alert.”

“It’ll be a big venture, that’s for sure. But plenty a lawmen take bribes.” Cas leaned back. “It’s exactly the kind of stunt they’d try to pull off. And if they do, they’d have no choice but to hide out.”

Dean grunted. “If you say so.” The waitress brought over their food and he began to carve at his chicken. “So we need to find Sam now, so we’ll be ready to strike. Hopefully won’t be too hard now that we know he’s not using an alias.”

Cas nodded and began eating. “How did you know what aliases Sam might be using anyway?” he asked.

“We always cycled through the same names when we were traveling with our pa.” Dean wiped at his mouth with a napkin.

“What, was your pa a bounty hunter?” Cas asked.

Dean shook his head. “Nope.” He didn’t want to elaborate so he changed the subject slightly. “Me and pa came to this town, once, after Sam left to be a lawyer. Lot different now, obviously. Couldn’t even tell you where we stayed or nothing, town’s changed so much.” He didn’t recall why his pa had dragged him here, but he’d rather not remember anyway. It hadn’t been for any good reason, he was sure.

“You guys live on the road?” 

“Yeah.” Dean eyed Cas. “Why all the questions?”

Cas shrugged. “Just figured you know about me and the gang, and I still don’t know fuck all about you and Sam.”

“Well, we’re not murderers, I can tell you that much. We’re not hiding anything.” He could tell he’d struck a nerve because Cas looked away, down at his plate. Dean returned to eating.

“You ever kill a man, Dean?” 

Dean looked up sharply. Cas was staring at him, his eyes cold blue. Dean held his gaze, unsettled. He shook his head.

“It’s a horrible feeling. You can judge me all you want, say what you will. You ain’t saying nothing I ain’t already said to myself.” 

Dean couldn’t think of a response to that, so he stayed silent. Maybe Cas wasn’t the cold-hearted killer he’d reckoned him to be. But the way he’d killed that Marauder...with a jolt, he realized he could understand why. He’d do the same to anyone who harmed Sam.

He threw back his glass, finishing off his whiskey. So what if Cas told a convincing story. Truth was, Cas had lied to him and Sam. There was no point in trying to understand him. Soon as Cas got revenge, he’d be gone.

They paid and went back to the motel. Dean tried to plan how best to go about the day tomorrow. Maybe Sam had gone even deeper into the east side of town. He should ask in more motels and boarding houses.

He sat on the bed and unbuttoned his vest. His side was throbbing and he couldn’t help but wince.

“Still think you only sprained something?” Cas asked. 

Dean looked up, surprised to see Cas watching him. He pulled up his shirt, untucking it from his pants, and looked at his side. He had bruises everywhere, but high up on his right side, along his rib cage especially, were large purple splotches.

“Sprained, broken, hurts like hell either way.” He dropped his shirt.

“Chuck and Rafael were never ones to go easy on anyone.” Cas took out a straight razor from his pack and went to the basin stand in the corner.

“Those were some fucking assholes if I ever met any.” Dean watched Cas pour water from the pitcher into the basin and unbutton his shirt several buttons down from his collar before spreading shaving cream across his jaw. “Bet you and them were close when you were riding with the Marauders.”

Cas snorted. “We weren’t best friends, but if that’s what you wanna believe.” He steadied his jaw with two fingers and ran the razor down his cheek.

Dean cleared his throat. “Well they’re dead now, anyway.” 

Cas looked in the mirror at him and Dean forced himself to hold his gaze. “You’re welcome for that,” Cas said. He rinsed the razor in the wash basin and tilted his head to run the blade again along his chin and neck.

Dean rolled his eyes and busied himself untying his boots and draping his vest and coat over the foot of the bed. When he let himself look up at Cas again, Cas was rinsing off his face. He looked younger without his beard and Dean felt a jolt realizing Cas looked closer to how he remembered him in Sutter Creek.

“Hate having a beard,” Cas said, toweling off his face. 

Realizing he was staring, Dean snapped his attention away. “I’ve been telling Sam he needs to shave. He’s going to look like a mountain man soon.”

Cas laughed a little and put his razor back in his pack. He pulled out a roll of white cloth. “Bought this today. I was relying on Sam to remind me to change this bandage.” He began to unwind the bandaging around his arm. The gash seemed smaller, but it looked like it'd leave a scar.

Cas held the end of the cloth roll in one hand and began to clumsily wrap it around his arm.

“Here,” Dean said, holding out his hand. “Let me. You’re doing a shitty job of it.” 

Cas looked up at him. He seemed to hesitate, and Dean half-hoped he’d say no. But he nodded and moved to sit next to Dean on the bed.

Dean took the roll, unrolled a stretch of cloth, and held one end against Cas’s forearm. He wrapped the cloth around the gash, not bothering to be too gentle.

Cas sat stiffly and Dean was all too aware of how close he was, how close their knees were to touching. His hand holding Cas’s arm trembled slightly and he cursed himself. _Get your shit together,_ he thought. He reached the middle of the gash where it was deepest and pulled the cloth tighter than was necessary. Cas flinched.

“Still hurts that bad?"

“It’s nothing.” Cas shifted, rubbed his jaw with his free hand. “Can’t believe I got this from falling off a trail.”

“Least you had the sense not to fall all the way down.” Cas snorted and Dean ripped off the rest of the roll with his teeth. 

Cas pulled his arm away and stood. “Thank you.”

“Mhmm.” Dean tossed the roll to him. “Don’t forget there was a mountain lion involved. Might want to play up that part when you tell the story.” He gestured at Cas. “You got that and your knife scar.”

Cas looked down at his side, then grinned. “Right. The one I got in an extremely dangerous fight.”

“There you go.” Dean turned back the covers on the bed, then looked at Cas straightening his bedroll on the floor.

_Fuck me_ , he thought. Out loud, he said, “Do you wanna take the bed tonight? I can sleep on the floor.” Cas looked up, surprise showing on his face. “I just figured it’d be fair,” Dean hastened to explain. He didn’t want Cas getting the wrong idea—he was still a conniving bastard, as far as Dean was concerned. “Since we’re splitting the cost of the room and all.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Cas said. “You’re the one with the broken ribs. I don’t reckon sleeping on the floor would be very enjoyable.” He unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way and it hung open over his bare chest as he looked up at Dean.

“Alright, if you say so.” Dean reached for the kerosene lamp. “I’m hitting the hay. Goodnight.”

“Night.” 

Dean turned down the light and laid down. In the dark, all he could see was the way Cas had looked at him in the mirror. 

It brought back a memory of seeing Cas for the first time at that saloon in Sutter Creek. Dean had looked up from a game of poker, had seen those blue eyes, and they caught him so off guard, he had stared back until he came to himself, flushed, and looked away. He’d lost that game and not on purpose.

Dean blinked and pulled himself away from the memories. No point in revisiting them. He’d gone over them enough already. Cas was here, not five feet away, but it didn’t mean anything. Time to let go.

* * *

“I’m going with you to look for Sam,” Cas said the next morning. He’d been thinking it over last night. They needed to find Sam fast. He stood by the door, waiting for Dean’s reaction.

Dean didn’t look up from tying his boots. “Like hell you are.”

“I’m no use wandering around this part of town when we know Sam is in the eastside.”

Dean stood and pulled on his coat. “Then your funeral if someone from the Marauders spots you and puts a bullet through your head.”

“I doubt they’d kill me on sight. Probably bring me to Abby and have her do the deed.”

Dean shrugged. “At least then we’d know where the Marauders are.”

They left the motel and wound their way into the east side of town. The streets grew narrower and emptier. Men sitting in doorways glared up at them from under low hat brims. Mangy dogs dug through piles of trash and filth.

Dean stopped by a man smoking outside a store. “Have you heard or seen a Sam Winchester ‘round these parts?”

The man raised an eyebrow. “Who’s asking?”

“None of your business,” Cas said. Dean sighed.

The man snorted. “Guess you’ll have to ask someone else.” He tapped the ash off his cigarette. 

Dean grabbed Cas’s coat sleeve and pulled him away. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“We don’t have time to make up stories about why we’re searching for Sam. You either use bribes or force to get any answers ‘round here. And maybe start with not asking anyone who looks like a bounty hunter. They’re not going to share.”

“Oh, so you can identify bounty hunters on sight now? Great. Wish I had that ability.” Dean walked away and Cas hurried to keep up. “If you’re gonna tag along, you better actually help.”

“You take the left side of the street and I’ll take the right. We’ll cover more ground that way.”

“Fine.”

They split up and Cas went into a few stores, a boarding house. He showed the money and kept his story short: he had a score to settle with one Sam Winchester. But nobody knew anything, or at least, chose to disclose any information.

He waited where the street split into two directions for Dean to come out of a saloon. Dean had been surprisingly civil last night, if that’s what being a mite less of an asshole now merited. He was sure it would only last for so long. Dean had only been happy to have some news of Sam.

Dean emerged from the saloon.

“Anything?” Cas asked. 

Dean shook his head. “Lady running that joint nearly pulled a gun on me, said I was disturbing the customers.”

Cas wasn’t listening. He had noticed a familiar figure behind Dean: a man chatting with someone on the street a few yards away. Grabbing Dean’s arm, Cas pulled him into the closest alley.

“What the fuck?” Dean snatched his arm away. 

“Shhh. I just spotted someone from the Marauders.”

“Where?”

“Over by the saloon. Look to see if he’s still there. He’s the one with the black hat.” He realized how closely he was standing to Dean, his arm brushing Dean’s coat, and stepped back.

Dean looked around the wall. “Yeah, I see him. He’s coming this way.” Cas turned around, hiding his face, until Dean said, “He went to the right. Come on." Dean stepped out of the alley.

“Where are you going?”

“For all we know, the Marauders might have Sam. We need information.”

Cas tried to come up with an argument for why that was a bad idea, but Dean was already walking away. He followed. 

“What do you know about this fella?” Dean asked, keeping an eye on the Marauder.

“He wasn’t a favorite of Abby’s. Did all the grunt work. Name’s Ezra.”

Ezra sauntered down the street ahead of them, pausing to greet a group of men bunched around the entrance to a saloon. Dean and Cas crossed the street to watch him without looking too conspicuous. After a few words, Ezra turned and headed down an adjacent alley. They followed, hanging back some. 

When no one else was in sight, Dean pulled out his gun. “Hey!” he called. “Stop where you are.”

Ezra glanced back, saw the gun, and widened his eyes. He began to run and Dean and Cas chased after him. Dean caught up to him first and slammed him against the alley wall.

“Wait, hey, don’t hurt me,” Ezra begged, throwing up his hands. Cas stepped forward and Ezra looked at him. “You want my money? I’ll give it to you.”

“You don’t recognize me?” Cas asked.

“I...I don’t know.” Dean cocked his gun, keeping one arm pressed against Ezra’s throat. “I swear! I’m sorry! Whatever I did, I’m sorry. My memory’s not what it used to be.”

“Cas Novak. I used to ride with the Marauders.” 

Ezra frowned. “Cas...I might remember. You ran away, didn’t you?”

“Where’re the Marauders now?” Dean asked, tightening his grip on Ezra.

“I don’t know!” Ezra looked at Cas. “I’m not with the Marauders anymore. Abby said I’m no use with what my memory’s become.” He let out a short laugh. “Can’t even find my way back to my damn apartment half the time.”

Dean glanced at Cas. “He lying?”

“Your memory seemed fine when I knew you,” Cas said. “You were stupid, sure, but—”

“I had an accident. We were holding up a stage and then...all I know is I woke up and they said I’d fallen—or gotten shot?” Ezra’s brow furrowed. “Please, I don’t know anything!”

Part of him wanted to put a bullet through Ezra’s head. Ezra had been there when Gabe was shot, hadn’t spoken up. Cas glanced at Dean and remembered the way Dean had looked at him torturing Chuck. 

“Cas?” Dean asked. 

“Let him go,” Cas said. “He doesn’t know anything.”

“You ever hear of a Sam Winchester?” Dean asked.

“Who? No, I’m sorry, I don’t—” With a final shove, Dean let go of Ezra. Ezra scrambled away and Cas watched him turn and disappear at the end of the alley. 

“Well, that was a waste of time,” Dean said, holstering his gun. He eyed Cas. “I’m surprised you didn’t go all murderous rage on him.”

“He’s not worth it.”

The sun was lower in the sky now, casting odd shadows where it shone through alleyways. Dean and Cas continued asking for Sam, each taking one side of a street. After several hours, they were no closer to finding Sam. 

“The sun’s going to set soon,” Cas said as they walked down a winding alley. “I’m not keen on being out here at night.”

“Me neither.” Dean shook his head. “What a fucking waste of a day. I need a drink.” He led the way into a small saloon at the bottom of a series of steps. It was grimier than Cas would have preferred, but he took a seat at the bar next to Dean. 

“Two shots of whiskey,” Dean said to the bartender. He rubbed a hand across his face. “Sam sure ain’t making it easy on us.”

“At least now we know he’s not around here,” Cas said, searching for anything positive to say. “Tomorrow we should head farther east.”

“Yeah.” Dean tipped back his shot, plunked down the glass, and took the second. Cas looked around the saloon, anxious about anyone from the Marauders walking in. It was a pretty laid-back group of patrons, mostly individual men slumped in their seats.

He turned back to the bar to see three more shots lined up. “You wanna slow down?” he asked.

“I think I deserve to get drunk, don’t you?” Dean asked, tipping back another shot. “They water this shit down anyway.” The glass clinked as he set it down. He held one out to Cas and Cas begrudgingly grabbed it and took the shot. It was nasty, bitter. The type of drink one took in hopes it worked fast.

“Alright,” he said. “Come on. Let’s get outta here.” Dean took the next one fast, stood, and threw money on the bar.

They walked down the darkened streets now growing busier. The darkness was good at least for obscuring faces. If anyone from the Marauders was around, Cas hoped to slip by undetected. 

All the same, he breathed easier when they left the narrow eastside streets for the wider streets near their motel.

“Let’s go in here,” Dean said, veering off towards a brightly lit saloon.

“Dean.” Cas hurried to keep up, annoyed. 

“Shut the hell up and come on,” Dean said, pushing into the saloon. Cas glared at his back. 

This saloon was more crowded than the last and was filling up by the second. They had to stand at the corner of the bar. People kept elbowing Cas as they walked past.

“Whatcha havin’?” The bartender nearly yelled over the noise.

Cas shook his head and Dean rolled his eyes. “Just one whiskey.”

The way they were pressed up against the bar, their arms were touching, but Cas couldn’t move away without stepping into the steady stream of people behind him. He tapped the heel of his boot on the brass rail at the base the bar.

“So you really didn’t want to off that guy back there? Ezra?” Dean drank from the glass the bartender had set down.

Cas shook his head. “I mean, I wanted to. But you saw him, he didn’t know jackshit.”

“I thought I was gonna have to watch you rip out his throat.” Dean laughed. “That night, when you killed Chuck, I stood there thinking, ‘I really don’t know this guy, do I? He could slit me and Sam’s throats in our sleep.’”

Cas looked at him in surprise. “You know that’s not true.”

Dean shrugged. “There’s plenty we don’t know about you. Plenty I’m sure you’re still lying about.”

“I’ve learned you can’t trust hardly anyone. So forgive me for not spilling out my whole life story.”

“Right. So that whole orphan thing? That was a lie, wasn’t it? Trying to get me and Sam’s sympathies?” Dean took a drink. “Sam sure fell for it. You have him wrapped around your finger.”

“It wasn’t a lie. I don’t need your pity. I’d rather you hate me than pity me.” He looked around the saloon. “Can we talk about this somewhere else?”

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “You’re one boring sonuvabitch, you know that? You and Sam both. Sam went off to Boston because the West was too much for him. He knew I couldn’t stand the whole settle-down-in-town kinda life. But that didn’t matter, sticking together didn’t matter. He wanted some successful lawyer life.” He laughed and raised his glass again. “And look at him now. Running on his own all over again. I should leave his ass behind.”

Cas rolled his eyes. Just what he needed. Listening to Dean spew all his gripes and insecurities. “Can we get going now?”

Dean set down his empty glass and glowered at him, and Cas couldn’t help but notice how his eyes looked hazel in the warm light. 

Before Dean could respond, a large man stepped up behind them. “Get your drinks and move away from the bar,” he said. “We all wanna drink too.”

“Who’re you talking to?” Dean asked, turning around.

“We were just about to leave,” Cas said hastily.

“No, no we weren’t.” Dean looked up at the man. “This asshole can find another place at the bar.”

“Whadidya say?” The man stepped closer. Nearby patrons turned to watch the exchange.

“I said.” Dean stepped away from the bar. “Fuck off, asshole.”

The man swung a fist at Dean and Cas stumbled back out of the way. People started yelling and jeering. Dean retaliated in kind, but the man moved away quick enough to miss the blow. 

“Get outta here!” the bartender yelled. 

Dean looked unsteady on his feet, and Cas had almost decided to intervene when the man clocked Dean in the face, sending him crashing to the floor.

* * *

Dean looked up as Cas walked into the room.

“Here,” Cas said, handing him a small towel bundled up. “The lady out front gave me some ice.”

Dean took it and held it to the side of his head. Cas stood in front of him, his arms crossed. “You have something to say?” Dean asked. His head was aching, but the spinning had stopped.

“I trust you already know what an idiot you are.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean dug in his coat draped next to him on the bed and pulled out his flask. Cas raised his eyebrows. “Shove it.” He took a long drink and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Thanks a lot for your help back there.”

“You’ve made it pretty clear you don’t need my help. I didn’t wanna risk offending you.”

Dean raised his middle finger. He took another swig from the flask. 

Cas took off his coat and hung it on a hook by the door—looking a little too amused, Dean thought, watching him. His eyes were so blue. His dark brown hair was tousled across his forehead. 

Dean extended his flask and Cas hesitated, then took it. He sat to Dean’s right on the bed and drank from it. Handing it back, his fingers brushed Dean’s. A slight jolt ran through Dean’s whole body. He set the towel down on the floor. The ice was melting, soaking it through. He moved the flask back and forth between his hands.

“Dean,” Cas said. “I don’t think Sam wants to be found.”

“I know he doesn’t,” Dean said. He stared at his hands. There was a scar on his right pinky, a thin white raised line crossing the knuckle. “But I’m going to find him anyway.” He dropped his hands. Cas nodded and stared at the floor. 

So close. Close enough to touch. Dean’s heart began to pound, he could feel it in his temples, and the room was so warm. He had been here before, hadn’t he?

Before he could think, before his arms felt heavier, even more weighed down, he reached out and put his hand on Cas’s thigh.

Instantly, the rational side of him urged him to pull away, to snatch his hand back, but he stayed still, couldn’t even process what he thought he was doing, what it meant to touch Cas, finally, for a moment.

For a moment, and then, in one swift motion, Cas pushed Dean’s hand away and stood.

Dean watched him as if he were watching from afar, outside his own body. None of it made sense, none of it affected him, none of it mattered.

Cas was shaking his head. “I can’t. I’m sorry. Tomorrow you’ll regret it, I know you will.” He looked at Dean, then, for a second, his eyes soft, before grabbing his coat. Dean pulled his hand into his lap. “I’m sorry, I need to–” Cas broke off and left the room. The door clicked behind him.

The room was too small, wasn’t it? The people next door were too loud, and it was too hot, much too hot. 

_Fuck_ , Dean thought. He put his head in his hands. “Fuck,” he said aloud, and clenched his fists, shut his eyes tight. His vision still dipped dizzily. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

* * *

Cas pushed the front door open, pulled on his coat. He walked quickly, weaving in between the people on the street, not caring who he bumped into.

The brisk air was welcome, and he tried to breathe deeply, but his heart was pounding. 

He stepped down an alleyway, but it was just as crowded—more so because it was narrower—and he walked faster, trying to get out.

He found quieter streets and eventually slowed, though he kept up a steady pace. He wasn’t sure where he was exactly, but he couldn’t think of that now. 

A thought flashed in his mind, of Dean sitting alone in the motel room, and his chest seized. 

Pausing, he leaned against an alleyway wall. He tried to catch his breath. He rested the back of his head on the rough brick. He looked at the sky. There weren’t enough stars. Or this town was too bright—every window down the street was lit from the inside and it was too loud. No one in this goddamn town ever shut up. 

He pushed off from the wall and kept walking.

_Damn him!_ he thought. Damn him. He got drunk and made a mess of everything. _Fuck_ , he thought. How was he supposed to go back now?

Where was he? He stopped and turned around. This was where he and Dean had been earlier. 

He’d find a motel out here and go back in the morning. If he knew Dean, Dean would never breathe a word about what had happened.

How badly he wanted to go back. How badly he had wanted, sitting next to Dean, feeling the weight of his hand on his leg—but no. He couldn’t. Not again. Not after what happened last time.

Determined now, Cas walked down the street looking for a place to stay. He passed a saloon across the street—then halted. 

Was that...? He peered at the figure walking towards the saloon. The doors opened, washing the street in light, and he saw the figure’s face.

It was Sam. 


	8. Staring at the Sun

Cas almost called for Sam, then stopped himself. Sam would never come with him. He’d leave again, disappear in the winding streets. Cas needed Dean. They could corner Sam, talk him out of whatever he was planning. With a backwards glance at the saloon, Cas ran off. _Please let him still be there when I get back_ , he thought.

He nearly got lost—all the streets looked the same in the dark—but he made it to the main street. Anxiety rose in him at the thought of having to see Dean, but he pushed it aside. This was about Sam now, that was all that mattered.

He ran up the stairs to their room and burst through the door. The room was dark and Dean shot up from where he was lying in bed.

“Woah, it’s me!” Cas said. Dean had whipped out a gun and was pointing it at him. 

“What—”

“It’s Sam,” Cas panted. “I saw him, come on, we need to go!” Dean swung his legs off the bed and grabbed his coat. 

“He went into a saloon on the eastside, he didn’t see me,” Cas explained as they pounded down the stairs. “We need to hurry, he has to still be there.”

They ran down the street, getting angry yells as they shoved past people. Cas led the way, hesitating at some corners, trying to remember the way.

“Where’d you see him?” Dean asked. 

“On a street near where we were today,” Cas said and Dean nodded and took off down one alley. Cas ran after him. A thousand thoughts were threatening to overwhelm him, but he pushed them aside. _Just find Sam_ , he thought, repeated. 

As they dashed out of one alleyway, Cas recognized the street and said, “This way.” He led the way to the saloon. They stepped inside and Cas scanned the room. _Please be here, please be here,_ he begged inwardly. 

Then Dean pushed past him and Cas spotted Sam at the end of the bar, across from them, alone, staring down at his glass.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Dean asked and Sam’s head snapped up. He spotted Dean and Cas and sat up straighter. Cas followed Dean to Sam’s side.

“I told you not to come after me,” Sam said quietly. 

“You honestly thought I was going to let you go off on some fool’s mission alone? We’ve been all over this goddamn town looking for you!”

Sam glanced at Cas then back at Dean. “You’re not a part of this, Dean. I pulled you into this mess, but I was wrong. You shouldn’t be here.”

“Damn straight I shouldn’t be here. Having to drag your ass back. Like it or not, I am a part of this. I’m not letting you do this alone. Now get up and let’s go.”

“No.” Sam shook his head. “I’m sorry, Dean, but no.”

Dean exhaled, shaking his head, then he pulled back and punched Sam in the face.

Cas startled and Sam caught himself from falling off his stool. 

Dean pulled his arm back again and Cas grabbed him. “Dean! Stop it!” He turned to Sam. “Come on. Now. Outside.” He pushed Dean towards the front door. The bartender was watching them lazily and a group of men at a table in the back had paused in their card game to stare. 

Dean glared at him but stormed out, and Cas looked expectantly at Sam. Begrudgingly, Sam stood and followed.

Outside, Cas led them into an adjacent alley. “Listen,” he said, turning to Sam. “We came all this way to find you. At least listen to Dean.” Dean crossed his arms and looked at Sam.

“Look, I know you don’t understand,” Sam said to Dean. “I know you’re worried that I came here alone, but what am I supposed to do? You got captured by the Marauders because of me. You and Cas could have both been killed because of me.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I mean, what can I even say? I’m sorry? I screwed up? Doesn’t really do it justice, you know?” Dean began shaking his head, but Sam continued. “There’s nothing I can ever do or say that will make this right—”

“Then shut up about it!” Dean said. “I don’t give a fuck that you told Ruby—I mean, it was stupid, really goddamn stupid—but it’s over. You made a mess and we cleaned it up. I’m not begging you for an apology. You’re the one beating yourself up about it.” Sam opened his mouth to speak and Dean cut him off. “No. You wrote to me, told me you needed help, so I’m here now. You’re my brother. Pa told me I had to take care of you and I damn well intend on it, if you’ll only fucking let me.”

Sam dropped his head and Cas waited for more arguing. Then Sam looked at Dean. “Fine.” He shrugged. “If this is what you want, then alright.” He and Dean looked at each other and Cas knew he wasn’t truly part of this, that they understood each other better than he ever could. 

Sam looked at Cas. “Cas, you don’t need to—”

“I’m still with ya,” Cas said. 

Sam nodded. “Thank you.” He touched his jaw and looked at Dean. “Bet you’d been waiting to do that for a while." But he smiled.

Dean grinned a little and clapped Sam on the back. “You bet I was. Where you been staying?”

“Some roach-filled motel, couple streets down.”

“Well come back with us. We’ve been staying at a motel down on main street. We can grab your stuff first.” They walked out of the alley and Dean looked at Cas. He didn’t speak, but Cas knew he was grateful and so he nodded.

_And just like that_ , he thought, _we move on_.

* * *

“You have to do something!” Ruby begged. “He might have killed me!”

So Sam was on the hunt. Abby stared up at the edge of the canyon walls, crisp against the blue, cloudless sky. “And yet you’re still alive. Any idea why?” She turned suddenly to stare down Ruby. Zachariah stood a few steps away, watching, his arms crossed.

“I don’t know! He’s insane! Look at what he did to me!” Ruby extended her arms. They were covered in a lacing of cuts. 

Abby waved her away. “So I’ve seen. But help me understand. Why would this ‘insane' person, as you say, leave you alive? Unless,” she stepped closer to Ruby, “you gave him the information he wanted.”

“I didn’t!” Ruby stared back, jaw set, but her eyes flickered uneasily.

“Don’t lie to me, Ruby.” Abby pulled out a knife and held it askew, watching it glint. “What Sam Winchester did to you is nothing compared to what I do to liars.”

“I only told him Rebel Corners, nothing else.” Abby ran her finger along the blade. “I swear! He was going to kill me, I had to say something!”

“Oh, Ruby,” Abby sighed. She nodded at Zachariah, and he stepped forward and grabbed Ruby’s arm.

“No, please! Abby!” Zachariah dragged Ruby away past the trees and Abby turned back to look out over the desert. She and the Marauders with her were a couple hundred miles away from Rebel Corners. They could leave now after Sam and presumably Cas as well, try to reach them before they started moving again or...she stared at the slope of the land and slowly smiled. She would let Cas come for her. She stabbed her knife into a nearby tree and heard Ruby screaming. Let him try.

* * *

“How did you know to come here to find me?” Sam asked. It was the next morning and they had just woken. Sam was tidying his bedroll where he had slept near the door, though Dean had offered him the bed.

Dean glanced at Cas before answering. “We went back to Riverton, to look for Ruby.”

“She was there?” Sam wasn’t meeting his eyes and Dean couldn’t help but wonder, what had Sam done to Ruby?

“No,” Dean said. “We talked to one of the other girls. She said Ruby had gone missing but went to Rebel Corners often. Said Abby might be here.”

Sam folded his blanket. “Well, safe to say Abby isn’t here now. I looked high and low.” He picked lint off his blanket and didn’t look up as he added, “I didn’t kill Ruby, if that’s what you’re wondering. I just needed information.” He fell silent again. 

Cas spoke up. “We know where the Marauders are going to strike next.”

“How?” Sam asked, looking up at him. “Where?” 

“That big railroad ceremony this afternoon? The Marauders are sure to ambush the train with all the rich and important folk riding.”

“And then they’ll stow away in their hideout,” Dean finished. “Where we can finish them off.”

“But what about today?” Sam asked. “They’re going to kill those passengers.” The same thought had been running through Dean’s mind. 

“You’re not gonna like it,” Cas said, looking at Sam, then Dean. “But we need to get on that train.”

* * *

Dean cleaned out his six-shooter, wiping off dirt with a stained rag. He looked at Sam, who was sharpening his knife and had been sitting quietly for some time. Cas had a whole plan, part of which involved enlisting the help of Celeste. He was off now, having volunteered to find her—for which Dean was grateful. He didn’t want to let Sam out of his sight. And he’d prefer to avoid Cas as much as possible. 

He tossed the rag onto the bed. How could he be so unbelievably stupid? Making a move like that? He was glad Cas had responded like he did. Who knew what could have happened?

“You good?” he asked Sam, pushing away his thoughts.

“Fine.” Sam sheathed his knife. 

“I know it’s a lot, springing this on you. I wasn’t expecting to go after the Marauders so soon.”

“I’m ready.” Sam pulled his legs up and hung his arms over his knees. “I’m surprised to see you and Cas still together. Thought you would’ve told him to beat it by now.”

“Yeah, well, I've thought about it.” What would Sam think, if he knew? Sometimes, he thought Sam might suspect, though he’d never dared confess his weakness for men. But that had been when Pa was alive.

“Cas knows where the hideout is, so I couldn’t just ditch him,” Dean continued, “I figured we’d find you, convince you to stop being so goddamn stupid, then carry out Cas’s little plan and send him on his merry way. Just gotta deal with him until then.”

Sam nodded, and there was a knock at the door. He stood to open it. 

“So you fellas need my help again so soon, huh?” Celeste walked inside, followed by Cas. She looked at Dean. “You look better than the last time I saw you.”

“I never got to thank you, for what you did that night.”

Celeste waved him off. “No problem. I did it for the money.” She grinned. “Speaking of which, Cas said there’s plenty to be made this afternoon.” 

“Yeah,” Sam said. “If everything works out the way we have planned.”

“I told Cas, all the tickets have been sold out for months. Best bet will be to find a spot a few yards from the station. Hop on the train as it’s leaving, before it gathers up too much speed.” She looked at Cas. “But how many we reckon are gonna be part of the ambush?”

Cas took off his hat and ran his fingers through his hair. “Don’t know. A dozen? Maybe less. Who knows how many Marauders there are now. Or if Abby will show up.”

“We’ve already wasted a few of them,” Dean said.

“True.” Cas glanced at him and Dean avoided eye contact. He swore, if Cas ever brought up last night…

“I’ve heard the Marauders’ numbers are dwindling,” Celeste said.

“Well that’s good to hear,” Sam said. “And we’ll have the element of surprise.”

“We’re gonna need it,” Dean said.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur as they finalized their plans. Sam got quieter and quieter as the hour approached, and Dean watched him, worried.

Finally, an hour before the train was set to leave, they prepared to go. Celeste braided her hair around her head and put on a men’s hat. Dean realized she was wearing all men’s clothes. She could pass as a young man from far away.

“What’s with the getup?” he asked.

“You try fighting in a dress.”

Dean laughed. “Right. Makes sense.”

“Turns out it’s easier to blend in as a boy than a woman in pants, so I thought I’d go all the way.” Celeste turned away from the mirror and grinned. “You may refer to me as Charlie.”

They made their way to the station. A band played a jaunty tune and the streets swarmed with even more people than normal. They wouldn’t have been able to get close to the train if they had wanted to, so they edged their way down, trying to find a spot where crowds weren’t lining the tracks. They finally found a spot where the ground sloped downwards.

“Gonna be a bit tricky,” Celeste said. From where they stood, the station looked no bigger than a shed and the crowds were just one big mass. “Train’s gonna be speeding up here.”

“We’ll make it.” Sam fidgeted with his gun, opening the barrel and closing it for the third time.

Cas toed a tuft of grass and Dean wondered what he must be thinking, if he was nervous like Sam. If he’d go all man-possessed when the Marauders showed up. 

“I think it’s starting,” Celeste said. Dean looked up to see dark smoke billow out of the locomotive. He could just hear the faint tune the band was playing.

He’d ridden on a train exactly once before. His pa had sent him and Sam to Bobby, suddenly, saying he had business to take care of alone. They’d lived with Bobby that whole winter. He looked at Sam, wondering if he remembered. 

Sam caught his eye and smiled. “Remember when we rode that train?”

“That was what you wanted to be when you grew up,” Dean said. “Train engineer.”

“If I remember correctly, you were scared stiff. Kept nagging me like I was the one terrified.”

“I was not,” Dean protested, lied. He remembered grabbing Sam’s hand as the train lurched to a start with a loud screech. Dust and smoke had seeped through the closed windows as they gained speed. He had looked out the window at the receding station and their pa had already gone. 

“Here we go,” Cas said quietly. Dean snapped back to the present. The train was pulling away from the station amid cheers. 

Third car, that was the one he and Celeste needed to get on. The luggage car, where hopefully he could remain unseen until the Marauders showed up.

The train grew bigger and Dean heard it clicking down the tracks. The closer it got, the faster it approached. _Shit, shit, shit,_ he thought.

They began running and the engine car passed. Then the first, then the second. Dean got closer to the tracks and saw the ladder on the side of the third car. 

Celeste grabbed hold of the rungs and swung herself up in one motion. She stepped onto the back of the car where it connected to the fourth one and motioned for Dean to hurry.

_Now or never_ , Dean thought. He lunged for the ladder, grabbed hold, and pulled himself up, all too aware of the ground whizzing under his feet.

“Quick, inside, before we’re spotted!” Celeste shouted. Dean leaned forward to see if Cas and Sam had made it on the luggage car at the end of the train. He watched Cas pull himself onto the train, then only Sam was left. _Run_ , Dean thought, _your legs are longer than any of us_. Sam caught hold of the ladder and swung up, disappeared between the train cars.

Dean hadn’t realized he was holding his breath, but he began to breathe again now. Celeste finished picking the lock on the car and he followed her inside. Trunks and bags were stacked throughout, shaking and shifting as the train rumbled down the tracks. One small window let in light.

Celeste sat down on a trunk. “Phew.” She fanned herself with her hat. “Scares me to death every time I jump a train.”

“You seemed like a natural.” Dean moved to look out the window. The horizon undulated as trees whizzed past. 

“Done it enough times I should be.” She put her hat back on her head. “Any idea where the Marauders will ambush?” Dean shrugged and sat on a trunk across from her. “And so we wait.” Celeste sighed, stretching out her legs. “We should've brought cards.”

The train rocked and Dean looked around the room, at the trunks decorated with ornate gold locks. “You really make a living being a bounty hunter?” he asked.

“Depends on how you define a livin’.” Celeste smiled. “But yeah, I do alright. I’ve learned to save my earnings for the long dry spells.”

“How’d you get into it?” Celeste bit her lip and Dean hastened to say, “Sorry. Personal question.”

“It’s fine. I guess it’ll help explain why I’m here.” Celeste crossed her arms. “Lee Crow killed my parents ‘bout ten years ago.”

“Lee Crow? From the Marauders?” He recognized the name from newspaper articles. Lee Crow had been a notorious outlaw until he was shot and killed a few years back.

“Nah, he was on his lonesome at the time. I don’t think the Marauders were even formed back then. My pa ran a general store and we lived on the floor above. I grew up stacking cans on shelves, running up purchases, the whole deal. One day Lee Crow came in, held up the store, and shot my ma and pa behind the counter. I was at school.”

“I’m sorry.”

Celeste nodded. “I went to live with my aunt, but that didn’t work out, to put it nicely. So I’ve been on my own ever since.” She smiled a little. “I’m the one who killed Lee Crow. But I couldn’t stop there. Figured I could save lives bringin' in criminals so that’s what I do. Don’t need a reward to make it worth it, though one helps.”

“I’m sure you’ve saved plenty of lives.”

“Couldn’t help someone like Sam, though. Long as the Marauders are around, I can’t ever stop.” 

The train rounded a bend and a small suitcase toppled over.

“My parents are gone too,” Dean said, clearing his throat.

“Sorry to hear that.”

“It’s nothing like what you went through,” he added, already wishing he hadn’t brought it up. “Ma died when I was four, and Pa ‘bout three years ago.”

“I can’t imagine it was easy either way.”

“No,” Dean agreed. He looked down at his hands. “Makes ya wonder, what they would think, seeing what I’m doing now, how me and Sammy’s lives have turned out.”

“You mean deliberately getting on a train that’s gonna be ambushed?”

Dean laughed. “For starters. I never expected to be doing half the shit I’ve wound up doing. Pa would lay into me if he was still around.”

Celeste shrugged. “I mean, I wonder the same thing—don’t get me wrong—but way I see it, can’t always do what our parents would’ve expected. They couldn’t have forseen the way our lives would change. ‘Sides," she grinned. "My parents never even rode a train, swear to god. They wouldn’t understand half of it.”

“True,” Dean agreed. “Very true.”

A crack rang out and Celeste jumped to her feet. Dean turned to look out the window. Two riders raced alongside the train, the first with his pistol in the air. “I hope that’s the sum of them,” he said. Two more riders raced past and he swore.

The riders raced forward towards the locomotive until Dean couldn’t see them anymore from his small vantage point. The train began to slow, then lurched abruptly to a complete stop so Dean had to grab the wall to avoid falling.

“And here we go,” Celeste said. Taking out her gun, she opened the train car door and looked back at Dean. 

He nodded. “Go get ‘em, Charlie.” Celeste grinned and jumped out of the car.

* * *

Cas saw the Marauders ride past the window of the luggage car he and Sam were holed up in. 

“They’re here,” he told Sam. Sam stopped pacing and joined him at the window. The train jerked to a stop. 

“Change of plans,” Sam said. “I’m going to the passenger cars and you’re staying here.”

“But Dean said—”

“I know. He thinks I’ll be safer here, waiting for the Marauders to show up.” He looked out the window. “But I can’t just sit here, I need to—” He broke off.

“Alright,” Cas said. He recognized the look in Sam’s eyes. “Go.”

Sam shot him a grateful look and eased the train car door open. He looked to both sides then dropped to the ground and out of sight. The door shut behind him.

Cas turned back to the window. He hoped Dean didn’t find out it was Sam who went through the passenger cars, approaching the Marauders. Dean would blame him for letting Sam go, but Cas knew Sam would have gone regardless. 

He’d recognized two of the four riders. No sign of Abby. He listened carefully, but there were no more gunshots to follow the one that had alerted him to their arrival.

A screech of metal made him spin around to the door opposite the one Sam had left through. A young man stepped inside then froze, seeing the gun Cas pointed at him.

“Please, I don’t wanna get hurt, I just work here!” the young man pleaded.

Cas lowered his gun, realizing the boy was wearing the red and white striped uniform of a train attendant. “I’m not part of the Marauders,” Cas said. “I’m here to stop them.” The boy watched him warily. “What’s your name?”

“Alfie.”

“Alright, Alfie. Have the Marauders boarded the train yet?”

Alfie nodded. “I didn’t know what to do so I ran in here to hide.”

Cas looked around the car then pushed a massive trunk a little away from the wall. He beckoned to Alfie. “Come over here and hide behind this trunk.” Alfie complied and Cas continued, “The Marauders are sure to raid this car so you stay out of sight, alright?”

Alfie nodded mutely. Shots rang out and Cas looked out the window. He couldn’t see anyone. Celeste would be headed to the locomotive, Dean stationed in the other luggage car. He scanned the room. Three doors to keep aware of—the two on the far sides, leading to the other train cars, and the big sliding door opposite the window, taking up most of the wall. He stepped back, eyes flitting between the three. 

He heard voices, then metal scraping. The sliding door. He positioned himself to one side of the door, out of sight. Alfie peered over the trunk, eyes wide with fear. Cas put a finger to his lips, and Alfie nodded and ducked down again.

The door slid open, a bright swath of light illuminating the car. Cas raised his gun.

“Here we go,” a low voice chuckled. A man climbed into the train car and before he could straightened up, Cas fired. The man dropped heavily and someone outside yelled.

Cas took a quick look outside the train car and ducked back as someone shot at him. The bullet splintered the opposite wall and lodged there. 

His back against the wall, Cas waited. He couldn’t well see the face of the man lying on the floor, but he didn’t think he recognized him. He didn’t seem to be moving, but Cas raised his gun, wanting to make sure he was truly dead.

Then three shots rang out in quick succession and someone bounded into the car. Cas only got one shot off before the figure knocked the gun out of his hands. It went flying and Cas leapt to his feet. He tackled the figure before he got shot and was surprised to see it was a woman. 

She snarled and grabbed at Cas’s throat. Cas struggled to pin her down, but she fought wildly, kicking and biting and scratching. He punched her in the face, stunning her for a moment. In that pause, he reached for his gun and the woman knocked him off of her. 

They both ducked as a shot ricocheted near them. Looking up, Cas saw Alfie standing, pointing his gun at the woman.

“I’ll shoot,” his voice wavered.

“Alfie, behind you!” Cas yelled. The man he had first shot had risen to his knees and Alfie turned too late to stop him from grabbing his legs and pulling him to the ground. The man wrapped his hands around Alfie’s throat and Alfie dropped Cas's gun.

Both Cas and the woman scrambled for it. Cas got there first and fired blindly. The man howled in pain and Alfie dropped to the ground.

Before Cas could react, the woman was on his back, grabbing for the gun. Cas swung his elbow back, connecting with her face, and she dropped. 

The man was on one knee, clutching his stomach. Blood stained his shirt and pant leg. 

Cas pushed himself to his feet, panting. The man looked up at him. “Cas Novak,” he managed, sneering. Cas cocked his head. “Don’t recognize me, huh?” The man spit blood. “You’re ole’ pal Bartholomew?”

“Bartholomew?” Looking closely now, Cas saw the man he used to know. The years had not been kind to him. “Pals might be overstating it.” Bartholomew had known Gabe, had been more or less a friend to him. But when Gabe needed him most, he had stood by, silent. Cas pointed his gun at him. “Where’s Abby?”

Bartholomew smiled. “She ain’t here, but she’s waiting for you, dontcha worry.” He coughed violently and spit more blood.

Cas cocked his gun and Bartholomew’s face turned fearful. “Now Cas,” he rasped. “You can’t blame me for Gabe’s death. Law of the land. You should recognize that better than anybody. You were one of us.” 

Cas’s voice shook. “I was nothing like you.” He glanced at Alfie, still motionless on the floor. He thought of Sam, on the run, his life thrown into disorder. “You sons of bitches ruin lives—” An image flashed through his mind and he froze. _No, no, no._ His hand tightened around his gun and he felt physically sick. _I’m nothing like you,_ he thought desperately, and fired. Bartholomew fell on his side, dead.

Kneeling by Alfie’s side, Cas pressed his fingers to his neck, searching for a pulse. _Come on, come on._

Alfie coughed and opened his eyes. His eyes focused on Cas then looked wildly around him. “What, what happened?” he stammered.

“You’re alright, you’re alive.” Cas heard groaning behind him and turned to see the woman stirring. Quickly, he cut a length of rope from a stack of trunks and bound the woman’s hands and feet. She scowled groggily up at him, and Cas slugged her in the face. She slumped forward. 

“He really dead?” Alfie asked. He was staring at Bartholomew’s body in horrified fascination.

“Better than what he deserved.” Cas glanced at Bartholomew. Instead of anger, he felt drained. The Marauders, Abby, they were the only ones who truly knew him. They alone knew what he had done. He had thought killing the Marauders would absolve himself. He realized now with a sinking sensation that he’d only been fooling himself.

“You alright mister?”

Cas shook himself from his reverie. “Stay here,” he told Alfie, jumping down out of the car. “Keep outta sight until it’s safe.”

The sun glared down and he heard a commotion to his right. He turned to see Dean standing outside the train cars shooting someone. The figure dropped to the ground, limbs flailing, hat falling off. Then someone jumped out of the car behind Dean and Cas caught his breath.

Before he could shout a warning, Dean spun around and pistol-whipped the approaching man. The man dropped, and Dean stood over him for a moment before turning and spotting Cas. 

Cas looked away. So Dean could take care of himself. He took a deep breath and scanned up and down the train. The fight wasn’t over yet. There was a clamor coming from one of the cars further down. He headed that way.

* * *

Dean opened his gun’s cylinder and spun it. Empty. He looked back down at the man who had snuck up on him. Well, that had been lucky.

He watched Cas climb up into the train. Where was Sam? After tying up the man he had knocked out cold, Dean snuck alongside the train, trying to stay out of sight of the windows.

A woman’s scream came from an open window above him, and he reached the end of the car, climbed up, and cracked open the door. 

A man stood in the aisle between the seats filled with passengers, waving his gun as he spoke. He held out his hat, and one of the passengers dropped a watch into it. 

“Oh, Mayor Milligan,” the man drawled. “You can do better than that, I’m sure.” He grinned as the mayor pulled a thick wallet out of his coat and dropped it in the hat. “See? That wasn’t so hard. Long as you comply, I can be quite reasonable.” Dean noticed then a man across the aisle slumped in his seat, covered in his own blood.

“I know who you are,” the mayor stammered. “You won’t get away with this, Asa Zell.”

Asa laughed and pressed his gun to the mayor’s temple. “Don’t be so sure.” The woman seated next to the mayor gasped and clutched the pearls around her neck.

Asa looked at her. “How ‘bout you, Miss? Have anything to contribute?” The woman’s hands shook as she took off her necklace. Dean ducked behind the door as Asa turned to scan the train car. “Who’s next?”

Dean tried to plan his next move. No bullets, though he did have his bowie knife. If he waited until Asa was close to the door...he holstered his empty gun and gripped his knife. 

Asa’s voice grew louder. “All yous rich folks and this is the best you can do? I’m startin’ to worry you’re holdin’ out on me.”

_Now_ , Dean thought and slid open the door. Asa jerked back as Dean slashed his blade at him. The knife caught Asa's arm and Dean heard the fabric rip. The hat Asa had been holding fell to the ground, scattering its contents. The nearest passengers dove to collect the items.

“You motherfucker—” Asa started, and raised his gun. Dean ducked his head and tackled him. Passengers screamed as he struggled with Asa in the carpeted aisle. His knife connected with Asa’s face and Asa snarled. He grabbed Dean’s wrist and twisted until Dean had to drop the knife.

Dean hit Asa in the face with his other arm, then fell back into the base of a nearby seat when Asa head-butted him. Asa grabbed the back of his collar and slammed him into the ground. Dean fought to escape his grasp, but a blow to the head stunned him.

”You tryin’ to be a hero, boy?” Asa panted. “I’ll teach you not to mess with Asa Zell.” He gripped Dean’s hair and slammed his head onto the floor, once, twice. 

There was a crash and a woman screamed. “Oh, god, no!”

“Get off him!” Dean recognized Sam’s voice. Asa kept Dean’s face pressed into the floor, and Dean’s vision swam. 

“More of you?” Asa growled. His knee was in Dean’s back and he still gripped Dean’s hair.

“Do you know me?” Sam asked. Asa scoffed. “I’m Sam Winchester.”

“Sam!” Asa laughed low. “I see now. You’ve been waiting for us, haven’t you?”

Dean managed to lift his head enough to see Sam standing a few feet away, his gun trained on Asa. The passengers around him were pressed to the sides of the train car.

“I was there when we killed your girl,” Asa said. “We went inside your home first—did you know that, Samuel? Found her alone.”

_Shut up, shut up, shut up_ , Dean thought. Sam didn’t speak.

“She wouldn’t tell us where you were,” Asa continued. “Begged for her life and yours, but ‘course that wasn’t an option.” He laughed again. “Abby wasn’t there so I made an executive decision. I tied up your wench in the kitchen, and we doused everything in gasoline.” He tsked. “The way she screamed. But you weren’t there, were you, Samuel? You’d already fled.” He paused and Dean heard the smile in his voice as he said, “Oh, I’ve struck a nerve, haven’t I?”

“Stand up.” Sam’s voice shook. 

The pressure on Dean’s back eased and he lifted his head off the ground. Asa stood over him, his hands raised.

“Go on, Samuel,” Asa said. “Avenge the life of your pretty little blonde. It’ll be almost like having her back.”

Sam fired and Asa pitched forward. Passengers screamed. Asa grabbed his arm and blood darkened his sleeve. “That all you got?” he sneered.

Sam holstered his gun and stepped forward. Dean scrambled to his feet. “He’s goading you, Sam, just kill him.” Sam shoved him aside and punched Asa in the face. 

* * * 

Cas walked through the train cars, wary. He’d heard noise coming from up ahead but hadn’t spotted any Marauders yet. He crossed from one car to another and found himself in an empty dining car, the tables set for mealtime. Ahead, a door slid open and a man walked inside. Seeing Cas, he raised his gun. 

“Woah, I’m not with the Marauders,” Cas said, raising his hands. He spotted a tin star on the man’s vest. A marshal. “I’m here to stop them, same as you.”

In reply, the marshal shot him.

Cas’s right leg buckled at a searing pain and he caught himself by grabbing the back of a nearby chair. He looked down to see a spot above his knee turning crimson. The marshal approached him cautiously, keeping his gun trained on him. 

“Alright, hey,” Cas said. He dropped his gun. “They bribed you, didn’t they? But I’m not here to kill you. I’m on your side.”

The marshal holstered his gun and pulled out handcuffs. “You’re gonna sit here nice and quiet until the Marauders are done with their business.” 

Cas nodded, his mind racing, and the marshal reached for his arm. Cas threw himself forward, tackling the marshal onto the floor. 

Plates, glasses, and silverware from a nearby table collided and fell to the floor as Cas tried to grab the handcuffs from the marshal. The marshal flung them a few feet away and Cas scrambled to reach them. 

He was stopped short by the marshal grabbing his boot. Cas kicked wildly and his boot connected with the marshal in the face. Free from his grasp, Cas seized the handcuffs.

He grasped one of the marshal’s wrists and clamped the handcuffs onto it. Before he could do the other, the marshal whipped his arm away and, snatching up a plate, smashed it down on top of Cas’s head. It shattered, stunning Cas for a moment. 

When his vision focused again, the marshal was struggling to his feet. Cas tackled him again and the marshal fell awkwardly on his side. Cas twisted the marshal’s arms back and managed to clamp the handcuffs down on his other wrist. He slugged the marshal in the face and the marshal’s head dropped heavily to the floor.

Cas stood shakily. Blood was smeared across the carpet and his boots crunched on broken glass and porcelain. His pant leg clung to the widening blood stain around his wound and his leg throbbed, though the pain was still muted in his adrenaline. 

The marshal's tin star had fallen off and lay upside down on the carpet. Cas stomped down on it with his good leg, bending the star’s points inwards.

He looked down at the marshal unconscious on the floor. “Lot of help you were,” he said aloud.

* * *

Dean searched the floor for his knife, but it was nowhere to be seen. He stumbled back as Asa fell to the floor and Sam crouched over him. He couldn’t just stand back and watch Sam and Asa fight, but he also knew Sam didn’t want him getting involved. 

“He has a knife!” a passenger screamed. Asa slashed a blade, catching Sam on the face. 

“Anyone have a gun?” Dean called, frantic. 

“I, uh, have one.” A man stood and pulled out a revolver from inside his coat. Dean grabbed it. The barrel was rusted and it took more force than it should have to cock the gun. Sam and Asa continued to struggle in the aisle. Dean couldn’t shoot Asa without risking shooting Sam. 

“That gun's a family heirloom, an antique,” the man said nervously. “If you could be careful with it, it’s quite valuable—”

“Shut the fuck up!” Dean said. A woman gasped, putting a hand to her chest, and the man next to her put his arm around her protectively.

Asa cut Sam’s arm and Sam slugged him in the face, then grabbed his arm holding the knife. Slowly, Sam twisted Asa's arm so that the blade was pointed at Asa’s heart. He had leverage and the blade lowered to touch Asa’s chest. Asa’s arms shook with the effort of stopping him.

Dean could shoot Asa now that he and Sam were locked in combat, but he knew Sam would hate him for it. 

“Shoot him!” a man yelled, standing up from his seat, pointing wildly at Sam and Asa. Dean hesitated, tense, gun trained on Asa.

“We’re all going to die,” another passenger wailed. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw someone trying to open a window to climb out.

“Everyone shut the hell up! No one move!” he yelled. His heart pounded as he gripped the gun, waiting, ready to fire at any moment.

Sam pushed the blade into Asa’s chest. Blood bloomed on Asa’s shirtfront. 

“That’s right,” Asa choked out. “Kill me. Like I killed your little bitch.”

Sam pushed the knife down further and Asa gasped. 

“Rot in hell,” Sam said. He plunged the knife down and twisted it.

_“_ _A crack rang out…Two riders raced alongside the train, the first with his pistol in the air.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo Source:  
> Fig. 1 DeGolyer Library, Southern Methodist University  
> "Officials at the Junction"  
> Part of: Union Pacific Railroad Illustrations  
> folio_2_f594_u5_1869_41_opt.jpg
> 
> Fig. 2  
> Adventure Magazine 1914-11


	9. Miles to Go

Sam pulled the knife out and stabbed again, then again. Blood spurted into the aisle and several passengers gagged. Asa convulsed, then stilled, the knife protruding from his chest. A woman fainted.

“Alright, alright,” Dean said, rushing forward and pulling Sam off Asa. Sam let him, stumbling back to sit heavily on an empty aisle seat. The woman in the window seat next to him gasped and pressed herself against the window, gathering up her skirts. 

“He’s dead,” a man said, standing and peering into the aisle at Asa. 

“Who are you boys?” the mayor asked, dabbing at his face with an embroidered handkerchief.

Dean ignored him and kept a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “You alright?” Sam only shook his head. 

“Oh Lord have mercy, there’s more of them!” the woman next to Sam shrieked. She stared in horror out the window and Dean followed her gaze. Cas was walking past, but he seemed to be hurt.

“Alright, come on, let’s go,” Dean said, pulling Sam to stand. He looked around the car. “Everybody stay here until we know the Marauders are taken care of.”

“The Marauders?” someone asked. 

“Yes, the Marauders. Now everyone stay calm and don’t move.” Dean led Sam to the car door. He spotted his knife half-hidden under a seat and grabbed it.

“We were ambushed by the Marauders?” a woman asked, fanning herself. “I’m going to be ill. Oh, it’s just horrible, horrible.”

"If you need any help—” a man in a crisp grey suit started, standing.

“We’re fine, thanks,” Dean said, rolling his eyes. He tossed the antique gun to its owner who fumbled and barely caught it. “You can have this piece of shit back.”

The owner straightened. “I beg your pardon? My grandfather used this gun in the Battle of Kings Mountain in the great War of Independence...” He continued, turning to the other passengers, but Dean ignored him and jumped down from the train. 

* * *

Cas walked past the train cars, a shock of pain running up his leg every time he took a step. He had tied his handkerchief above his left knee but his lower pant leg was soaked in blood. Despite his injury, he scanned the train cars, worrying about Dean and Sam.

“Cas!”

Hearing his name called, he turned and saw Dean jumping down from a train car. Relief flooded him. 

“Are you alright?” Dean asked, hurrying over, Sam following at a slower pace.

“You’re looking at it,” Cas replied. Dean had a bruise on his forehead but didn’t seem to be injured otherwise.

“What happened?”

“I got shot.” Cas looked at Sam. “Are you hurt?” Sam looked down at himself as if surprised he had a body. 

“It’s mostly someone else’s blood,” Dean said. He looked at Cas. “Is the bullet still in there?”

Cas looked down at his leg. “I think so.” 

“We need to get it out. Where’s Celeste?”

Cas gestured to the right. “Guarding everyone we captured. All the other Marauders are dead.” 

“Can you walk?” Dean asked.

Cas nodded and Dean walked past him in the direction he’d indicated, gripping Sam’s sleeve to pull him along. Cas followed, limping, cursing inwardly with every step. Dean glanced back at him and slowed his pace.

Cas scowled. “I’m fine.”

“Well you’re obviously not.” Dean let go of Sam and reached for Cas. 

“Dean…” 

“Get over it, come on.” Dean put one arm around Cas’s waist and pulled Cas’s arm around his shoulders. Cas stiffened but allowed Dean to help him walk. 

“Come on, Sammy,” Dean called and they slowly made their way to the front of the train where Celeste was. “How many are still alive?” he asked Cas.

“Three. I don’t recognize any of them.” He winced as Dean tugged him to the right. “I killed one.”

“Same here.” Dean looked back at Sam trailing behind. “How many did you kill?”

Sam blinked. “Two.”

“That makes seven in all, not counting Charlie’s kills,” Cas said. “How’d we pull that off?”

Celeste held a gun on the woman Cas had knocked out and two men. They sat along the tracks tied up. “Cas, what happened?” she asked as they walked over.

“A marshal shot me.”

Dean let go of him. “A marshal? What the hell?”

Cas shrugged. “He was helping the Marauders.”

“That son of a bitch,” Dean said. He seemed about to go on a rant but finished short with, “This whole train is filled with idiots.” He looked at Cas’s leg. “We need to get the bullet out now. You’re losing a lot of blood.”

“There’s a medical kit on board,” someone said. 

Cas looked up to see Alfie step out from next to the train. “This is Alfie,” Cas said, gesturing to him. 

“Alright, well, go get the kit,” Dean said to Alfie.

“It’s over, isn’t it?” Alfie’s eyes darted nervously to the train.

“Yeah, it’s over,” Cas said. Alfie ran off.

“Who the fuck—” Dean started, then broke off, shaking his head. 

“I’ll explain later,” Cas said, awkwardly managing to sit on the ground. He hated people making a fuss over him. He hated Dean trying to help him. Then he glanced at his leg and felt a sudden worry at the way his handkerchief was soaked through.

“How long until the law shows up?” Dean was asking Celeste.

“Not long, I reckon. The next town over will be wondering why the train hasn’t arrived yet.” She looked over Dean’s shoulder. “You good, Sam?”

Cas turned his head to see Sam leaning against the side of the train. Dean spoke up, “He killed the guy who killed Jessica.” 

Cas looked up at Dean. “Who?”

Sam spoke. “Called himself Asa Zell. That bastard—” he faltered.

The female Marauder began to laugh. “You’re Sam Winchester?” She looked at her fellow prisoners. “Well, I never. This is the fool Abby has had us on the lookout for all these months.”

“Where is Abby?” Cas asked.

“You should know,” the man Dean had knocked out earlier replied. “You’re Cas Novak, aintcha? Abby has plenty a plans for you.”

The woman spoke up. “She’s been trying to decide between hanging you or shooting you. I’ve been arguing in favor of skinning you alive.”

“Well, that’s lovely,” Celeste said.

“She’s waiting for you to show up,” the third man said, raising his head to glare darkly at Cas. “She ain’t never forgotten what you did to her.”

“What’s he talking about?” Dean asked, looking down at Cas.

Cas stared back at the man, then up at Dean. “When I escaped from the Marauders, there was a fight, and I injured Abby.”

“Cut her eye out,” the third man said. “You’re lucky to still be alive. To have lived this long.” Cas glared at him.

“Alright,” Dean said. “Shut up.” He looked at Cas, but Cas couldn’t read his expression. Worried? Disturbed? He held Dean’s gaze. _Think what you will,_ he thought. 

Alfie came running back with the medical kit. Dean took the brown leather bag and opened it, crouching next to Cas.

“You’ve done this before, right?” Cas asked. 

“Yeah, don’t worry.” Dean took out his bowie knife and began to cut the fabric around the wound. Cas winced. Dean kept talking. “My pa got shot a coupla times, taught me and Sam how to fix him up." The cloth was stuck to the edges of the bloody hole and he peeled the fabric back slowly. Cas clenched his fist. "Had to do this on myself once.” 

“What happened?” Celeste asked.

“Got shot in some scuffle over a card game, over in Limberlost, and the bastard shot me in the arm. Left a nasty gash.” His eyes flitted to Cas’s. Limberlost was near Sutter Creek. Maybe that’s where Dean had gone when he disappeared. 

Cas pushed it away. He didn’t care what Dean had been up to. It was nothing to do with him.

His wound now exposed, the blood ran freely down his leg into the sand. Dean looked in the bag. “First things first.” He took out a flask and handed it to Cas. Cas took a long swig as Dean found forceps. “This is gonna hurt.”

Cas snorted. “I would’ve never guessed.”

Dean took a rag out of the medical bag and tossed it to him. “Bite on that.”

Cas did so as Dean brought the forceps to the wound. Alfie leaned over his shoulder, then back away, shaking his head. “I can’t watch.” He continued to stare. Celeste glanced back and forth from the prisoners to them. 

Dean steadied Cas’s leg with one hand and lowered the forceps in his wound. At the sensation, Cas looked away and studied the desert floor. He concentrated on the pressure of Dean’s hand on his knee to avoid acknowledging the tug of the forceps as Dean tried to pull the bullet out. Then the forceps slipped and tore at his wound. Cas flinched and bit harder into the rag, digging his fingers into the dirt. In his peripheral, he saw Dean glance at him. 

Dean brought the forceps to the bullet again and Cas felt a pinch. Then the bullet dropped on the ground in front of him. He looked up to see Dean sitting back.

“A souvenir.” Dean wiped his hands on his pants. Cas could see his hands were quivering.

Cas took the rag out his mouth and took a shaky breath. “Thanks.”

“We’re not done yet.” Dean dug in the bag for a needle and thread. “Sam.” Cas looked over to see that Sam had sunk to the ground and was mutely watching the proceedings. Sam blinked and focused on Dean. “Your hands steady? It’s fine, I can do it if you can’t.”

Sam nodded and stood. He cleared his throat. “I can do it.”

While Sam threaded the needle, Dean used the rag to wipe at the blood around the red tissue of the wound. “Doesn’t look too deep,” he said. “But we better stitch it up. Sam’s better at that anyway.” He moved over so Sam could see the wound better, and Cas drank from the flask again.

Sam was quick, but it stung as he pulled the needle and thread through Cas's skin, cinching the edges of the wound closed. Cas clenched his jaw, refusing to make a sound. He noticed the dazed look had left Sam’s eyes and realized Dean had known exactly what Sam needed.

Reaching the end, Sam ripped off the rest of the thread with his teeth and tied a knot. Cas exhaled. Dean motioned for the flask and Cas handed it to him. Without warning, Dean poured the alcohol over the stitched-up wound, and Cas let out a short gasp before clenching his teeth shut and shaking his head.

“Sorry,” Dean said, handing back the flask. "That should clean it up."

“Fuck,” Cas muttered, tilting the flask back to drink from it. 

“Thanks, Sammy,” Dean said. Sam wiped his hands on the rag and nodded. 

Cas heard a distant rumble and turned to see a posse riding towards them. 

“Calvary’s arrived,” Dean said.

Sheriffs and lawmen soon swarmed over the train. The mayor who had seen Sam kill Asa explained in great detail what had occurred and a sheriff shook everyone’s hands, praising them for their work. Alfie regaled passengers with a highly embellished story of how he nearly died at the hands of a Marauder. Cas recounted he'd gotten shot and two sheriffs dragged the marshal, now conscious and swearing a blue streak, out of the dining car.

A woman wearing a hat with a large red plume laid her hand on Dean’s arm. “You’re a hero,” she said. “You were so brave!”

“All in a day’s work,” Dean said. He caught Cas watching and, self-conscious, Cas looked away.

Celeste negotiated the reward for killing and capturing the Marauders then whipped off her hat, startling the young deputy taking notes. “Didn’t think you were dealing with a woman now didya?” She grinned triumphantly as the deputy stammered.

It was dark by the time everything got cleared up and the train brought them back to Rebel Corners. They left the station and stood along the street. Passengers filed past and news journalists asked for interviews. Dean and the woman wearing the plumed hat stood a few feet away, talking. A diamond bracelet retrieved from the Marauders’ spoils now dangled from the woman’s wrist.

“Well, good work fellas,” Celeste said to Sam and Cas. She waved a receipt in the air. “I gotta claim my reward. You sure you don’t wanna split it?”

“Keep it,” Cas said. “Thanks for your help.”

“Where you headed now?” Celeste asked. Sam looked at Cas for a response. 

“Those Marauders said I should know where Abby is,” Cas replied. “Abby knows I know about the hideout. She’ll be waiting there.”

Celeste raised her eyebrows. “Well, I’m keen on giving Abby a taste of her own medicine. You going after her, let me know.”

“Will do,” Sam said. Celeste waved goodbye and walked down the street. Cas turned to see the woman with the plumed hat holding onto Dean’s arm.

“You seem so worn out,” she was saying. “I live close by. Why don’t you come on over and I’ll have my servants draw you a bath and my chef prepare you a warm meal.“ She looked over at Sam and Cas. “You boys are welcome too, of course.”

“I think we’re alright,” Sam said. He seemed amused.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later,” Dean said. He flashed a grin at Sam and walked away with the woman. They disappeared in the crowds. 

Sam turned to Cas. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” 

After a stop at their motel to change out of their bloody, dusty clothes, they ended up in a small saloon, at a cramped table in the back.

“How’s your leg?” Sam asked Cas as they waited for their food.

“‘Bout what you’d expect.” He’d bandaged it and the pain had receded to a low throbbing. Not the first time he’d been shot, but it was never a pleasant experience.

A game of cards across the room erupted in laughter and hollers. Cas watched as a fight was barely avoided, stopped by two men pulling another out of the saloon.

He took a drink from his glass. Seemed like Dean had gotten over last night fairly quickly. It had been only a drunken pass after all. Nothing more to it—not that it mattered to Cas. He was glad, really. Better for the both of them to just forget about it and move on.

Pulling himself from his thoughts, Cas studied Sam. “You seemed pretty shaken earlier. You doing alright?”

Sam shook his head. “I thought I was ready to face the Marauders. Then that bastard starting talking about Jess and,” he sighed and shook his head again. “I lost it.”

“I’ve been there,” Cas said. It was the sort of rage that made him feel like someone different, like someone possessed. That rage had been absent today. He’d let Bartholomew get to his head. Absentmindedly, he traced the rim of his cup.

“So Abby is at the hideout, waiting for us,” Sam said. Cas looked up. “That’s why she didn’t show up today.”

Cas nodded slowly. “She knows they’ll have the upper hand there. I reckon she figures if I’m coming after her, she’ll call the shots.”

“That doesn’t seem the best scenario.” Sam drank from his glass.

“No,” Cas agreed. “It’ll be much more of a risk than today. But the Marauders’ numbers are low, and we’ll have more help.”

“Who? Celeste?”

“I told James, from Riverton, about our plans and he said he wanted in.”

“Alright, great.” Sam rotated his glass on the table. “Time for the Marauders to pay.”

* * *

Early the next morning, Dean clomped up the stairs of the motel. He’d hardly slept a mite last night and was exhausted, but the last thing he wanted to do was return to the motel, see Cas. 

He pushed open the door to their room and found Sam and Cas packing up their belongings. 

“We heading out?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” Sam said. “First to Riverton, then on to the hideout.” He gestured to Cas. “Cas knows of a place near the mine where we can camp.”

“Is that right?” Dean asked Cas. 

Cas had only glanced at him when he’d walked in, and now he spoke without looking up. “It’s an abandoned town. It’ll be safe enough.”

“We just need to let Celeste know before we go.” Sam threw Dean his pack and Dean caught it. Was Cas still angry with him over his drunken advance? Yesterday, when Cas had gotten hurt, he hadn’t seemed too eager for Dean to help him.

“I’ll go tell Celeste now,” Dean volunteered, setting his pack down.

“You sure?” Sam looked up from folding a shirt. “You just got back.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. I’ll meet you guys at the corral.” He grabbed the doorknob and looked back at Cas. Cas’s shirt collar opened as he bent to stuff a shirt into his pack, and Dean could see a bruise on his collarbone. He now recognized the feeling dogging him all night: the weariness he had felt when leaving Sutter Creek. “Alright, Cas?” he ventured.

Cas met his eyes for only a moment. “Alright.”

Dean turned and left the room.

Sam looked at Cas. “He seem off to you?” Cas shrugged and closed his pack. “Well, at least you two seem to be getting along better.”

Cas eyed Sam. “I suppose,” he said cautiously.

“I just mean, I know Dean can be a real ass and he hasn’t been making it easy for you.”

“No, he hasn’t,” Cas agreed. He searched for the right words. “I think, hope, he’s decided to focus on what needs to be done. Stopping Abby.” Most likely, he thought, Dean was only being amiable because he didn’t want Sam to pick up on anything being off between them. 

After what had happened two nights ago, he’d worried Dean would start picking fights again or stop speaking to him altogether. Thinking of that night, of Dean putting his hand on his leg, made his pulse race even now. But now, Dean going off with that woman—

_Stop it_ , he told himself. Was he really this foolish? Falling into jealousy? After everything that had happened? Now was the time to focus on what really mattered, why he’d started riding with Dean and Sam in the first place: stop the Marauders and give Abby what had been coming to her for a long time. 

He and Sam went to the corral and when Dean returned, they left Rebel Corners. Celeste had told Dean she’d meet them at the abandoned town. First, she needed to find a friend who would want to join them. Cas was happy to leave the swarming town behind, and soon the desert spread before them, dotted with trees and plants, broken with jagged mountain ranges.

* * *

When they reached Riverton on their second day of travel, in the late morning, it seemed to Dean ages since they had last been here. How had it only been a few days? So much had passed, so much had changed—and yet stayed the same.

They hitched their horses in front of Moseley’s and walked inside. Missouri was wiping down a table in the empty room, and she straightened when she saw them.

“So you’re back,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “James told me about your plan to go after the Marauders. You boys ain't fool enough to still be plannin’ that shit, are ya?”

“‘Fraid so,” Dean said, holding his hat in his hands.

Missouri shook her head. “Y’all have a death wish! And tryin’ to rope my boy into it too, after what the Marauders did to Pamela and all them folks?”

“Ma, we talked about this.” Dean saw James emerge from the kitchen doors. “Good to see you found Sam,” he said, nodding at them. “When are we leaving?”

“Now hold on,” Missouri said.

“Ma,” James interjected. “You know we have to do this.” They started arguing in hushed tones and Dean looked around the restaurant, feeling uncomfortable.

The door opened and Mia walked inside. “Thought I saw you comin’ into town.” She shook their hands. “We’ve been waiting for ya.”

Missouri huffed and left the room. James sighed. “Mia,” he said. “Get Len in here too. Then Cas can tell us the plan.”

They sat around one of the tables. “Do you have a pencil and paper?” Cas asked. James fetched them from behind the bar and Cas drew a sketch of the hideout and its surrounding area.

Mia returned with Len. “So it’s you bastards again,” Len bellowed, dragging a chair to the table. “When James told me he was keen on joinin' you to take on the Marauders, I said he was an idiot. Y’all better have a surefire plan.”

“More or less," Dean said.

“I gotta warn ya,” Cas said. “They know we're coming.” Dean wondered if Cas would tell them everything. “I was part of the Marauders, years ago,” Cas started and Dean looked around the table, searching everyone’s faces for signs of animosity. Len looked a little shocked and James watched Cas thoughtfully. “They want me dead because I nearly killed Abby before leaving the gang. They'll be waiting for me to show up. Reckoned I’d let you know, case that’s a deal breaker.” 

“If you’re gonna join us, we gotta know we can trust each other,” Sam said. “Cas wants the Marauders dead as much as any of us.”

James nodded slowly. “Alright. I’m still in.” He looked at Mia and Len.

“Shit,” Len said. “I reckon so.”

“‘Bout time we gave the Marauders hell anyway,” Mia said.

They went over their plans. It was a little under a week’s ride to the abandoned mining town. James, Len, and Mia would follow a day behind Dean, Cas, and Sam and travel a different route to avoid meeting up and attracting attention. Cas showed them on his crude map where they would meet: an abandoned mining town a few miles from the hideout.

Dean looked up to see Missouri watching them from behind the bar. “I can’t talk you outta this, can I?” she asked and they shook their heads. Missouri jabbed a finger at Dean, Cas, and Sam. “My boy better get back to me safe and sound, y’all hear?”

Dean nodded. “That’s the plan. For all of us.”

After a quick lunch, they rose to leave. Missouri packed up the leftovers and handed them to Sam for their travels. Dean saw James talking to Cas but couldn’t hear what they were saying. Len clapped a hand on his shoulder and he startled.

“We heard ‘bout what happened on that train in Rebel Corners,” Len said. “That was y’all, wasn’t it?”

“Yup,” Dean said.

“Pretty foolhardy,” Missouri chimed in.

“I reckon it all worked out in the end,” Dean said.

“Well, it was brave, I’ll give you that,” Missouri said. “You boys saved a lot of lives.” James and Cas walked over to them. “Y’all be safe now, ya hear me?”

“Yes ma'am,” Sam said.

They left and mounted their horses. As they rode away, Dean couldn’t help but ask Cas, “What were you and James talking about?”

“He just wanted to let me know not to worry.” Cas adjusted his hat. “He said they wouldn’t hold me being a part of the Marauders against me.”

“Well I’d hope not,” Dean said. Cas looked at him and he realized what he was saying.

“You mean that?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, sure. We can’t have them turning against us.” He looked forward, avoiding Cas’s eyes. In everything that had happened of late, he’d nearly forgotten his anger at Cas’s connection to the Marauders. It didn’t seem nearly as important anymore.

* * *

After several hours of riding, they stopped for the night under a few palo verdes. The moon was rising in the sky and a breeze rattled the tree branches.

“Shit,” Dean said, digging into the food Missouri had given them. “This food’s amazing.”

“Don’t eat it all tonight,” Sam said, sitting down next to him. 

“Missouri wasn’t too happy to see us,” Cas said, stoking the fire.

“Who can blame her?” Dean asked. He smacked Sam’s hand away from the pie.

“Well I’m glad James and the rest are joining us anyway,” Sam said, giving Dean a dirty look. “Wonder if I should’ve told them I was the one who led the Marauders to Riverton.”

“It ain’t your fault,” Dean said.

“It’ll be our faults if they die trying to help us,” Sam shot back.

“It’s their own choice to join us. They know the risk.”

"Dean’s right,” Cas said. 

Dean looked at him, surprised. Cas looked at Sam. “I could say the same things, that I dragged you and Dean into this mess. But I know you want the Marauders dead as much as I do, so we’re all risking our lives for it.” He looked back at the fire, shoved another piece of wood into the flames. “If we start questioning ourselves now, we’ll never win.”

They finished eating and settled in for the night. Dean was set to take third watch. Though the Marauders were most likely already at the hideout, there was no telling what bounty hunters might be around. It was better to be safe than sorry.

Despite the long day of travel, he found himself wide awake. The ground seemed too hard and his mind ran over the plan for killing the Marauders.

Finally, after tossing and turning, he sat up. The fire crackled, the wind carrying the faint scent of smoke. Cas was walking back from where the horses were tied to the few scraggly trees—now dark, twisted forms in the dark.

“I was just checking on Angel,” he said, sitting down on Dean’s left. 

Dean looked over at Sam, who seemed asleep. “Whatever possessed you to name a horse Angel?” he asked.

Cas laughed a little. “Don’t know. Reckon she’s helped me get outta plenty a rough scrape.”

“I’ve only had Tucker for a few years,” Dean said. “But he’s been plenty reliable, ‘specially with all the cattle herding jobs I’ve had since.”

“So is that what you found yourself doing, after Sutter Creek?” 

“Yeah, just traveling all over the place.” Dean cleared his throat. “What ‘bout you?”

“The same.” 

Dean hadn’t told Sam that for a few months after leaving Sutter Creek, he’d been wandering, traveling from town to town, never staying in the same place for long. He’d lied in the one or two letters he had sent Sam at the time, saying he’d found a job on a ranch. It wasn’t until later that he’d finally settled and found honest work.

“Actually,” Cas said, pulling Dean from his thoughts. “I traveled north for a time. Thought I’d lose the Marauders for good in territory that was barely settled. But guess I couldn’t stay away when I knew they were still out here.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Maybe I’ll go south when all this is over. Travel through Mexico.”

They fell silent, both looking at the fire. Dean wondered if Cas ever thought of that night in Sutter Creek.

“Ya know,” Cas said. “I asked James if Ruby had ever shown up again and he said no. She’s still missing.”

“Well, good riddance.”

“If she went back to the Marauders, Abby probably killed her.”

“Like I said, good riddance.” Dean ran a hand through his hair. “Wish I coulda done it myself.”

“I gotta agree with you there.” Cas kicked a log over to the center of the fire. The flames crackled. “I saw you shoot someone, at the train. That was the first person you’ve ever killed, wasn’t it?”

“Had to be done,” Dean said. Truth was, he hadn’t allowed himself to think about the act. It was self-defense, it was what any of the bastards deserved.

“I know it,” Cas said. “I ain't judging.”

Dean studied Cas, noticed the way his chest rose and fell almost imperceptibly as he sat hunched over to stave off the cold. “It true?” Dean asked. “You cut Abby’s eye out?”

“Yup.” 

Just when he thought he knew who Cas was, Cas surprised him all over again.

“Say it.”

Dean looked up from staring into the fire. “What?”

“I know what you’re thinking.” Cas scuffed the heel of his boot into the dirt. “I’m a sick son of a bitch.”

“You said it.”

Cas nodded slowly. “Hmm.” He stared at the fire.

Dean looked up at the stars, at the sliver of the moon. That wasn’t it at all.

“Reckon she deserved it,” he offered. Cas looked at him. Dean shrugged and tried to save face. “Reckon she’s done enough to rot in hell.” A hint of a smile flashed across Cas’s face before he ducked his head. 

Dean stood and walked off to collect more wood for the fire. It was curious, wasn’t it, Cas thought, watching him, how much things had changed between them since Sutter Creek. Dean seemed more of a stranger now than ever before. He pulled at a thread on his coat sleeve. 

Dean returned and dropped the brush he’d collected to the ground. Flames swirled upwards as he added the dry tinder. When he stood, wiping dirt from his hands, the firelight played along his face.

Cas had a sudden image come to mind, a memory, of Dean going through the same actions on another night. In his memory, Dean pushed a log into the fire and pulled his hand away as a splinter pricked his finger and a drop of blood welled to the surface. 

Dean looked at him, now, over the fire, and Cas had the sudden fear that he could read his mind, that Dean knew he was thinking of that night in Sutter Creek. Flushing, he looked away.

“Reckon I should get some rest,” Dean said and lied back down. Cas sat and listened to the fire snapping, to the horses snorting low settling down for the night.

A drop of blood and Dean had looked at it, then swiped his finger across his coat, and Cas had forgotten the moment until now. What a small wink of time to remember from a night blurred by drink and the time that had passed since. 

He had told himself he wanted to forget, but now, Cas knew he’d only tucked that night away and at any time it might come rushing back—and with it the way he’d once felt.

As the night grew long, the small memory of the drop of blood—solely the one because he wouldn’t allow himself to recall the others—played again and again and again before his eyes against the backdrop of the fire and the wide night sky.


	10. Riders on the Storm

The next day grew humid as it wore on. Low clouds on the horizon hinted at rain in the near future. Late that afternoon, as the sun began to dip in the sky, its rays seeming to grow more intense, they reached a grove of trees next to a wide river and agreed to stop for the night.

Cas dismounted. He fanned himself with his hat before putting it back on. The sun overheard was beaming down too harshly to keep it off for too long. Dean drank from his canteen then turned it over to show it was empty. “Good thing we’re near water,” he said.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m getting in that river,” Sam said, untying his bandana.

“I’m right there with you,” Dean said, dismounting. 

Cas stepped to the water’s edge and pulled off his boots. The water was clear, glinting where it splashed over motley stones and caught the sunlight. He stripped down to his drawers, ignoring, trying to ignore, the fact that Dean was a few feet away doing the same. So he’d never stopped being attracted to Dean. What did it matter? He’d made it clear to Dean what he thought of his advances and he was sure Dean would say they were acquaintances only, not even friends.

The water grew colder the deeper it became, but it was welcome. Standing in the middle, it came halfway up Cas's chest and he splashed water onto his arms. On the shore, he saw Dean slip off a necklace and place it on top of his clothes. Cas had noticed the necklace before. It seemed to be a ring on a leather cord.

“Come on, Dean,” Sam said, already in the river. He ducked underwater and came up again, pushing his hair out of his face. 

“Fuck it’s really cold,” Dean said, walking in up to his thighs. The bruises on his body had faded somewhat, though the one over his ribs was still a deeper purple. 

“Stop being such a wuss,” Sam said. Dean took the plunge, going under and coming up with a shout. He splashed water at Sam and Sam retaliated. 

Cas couldn’t help feeling jealous of Dean and Sam. Seeing the easy way they interacted with each other made him miss Gabriel. It had been so long since he had been able to just enjoy himself, without the shadow of that fated day hanging over him, of what he had done...

Cas ducked under—the cold at first a shock, then comfortable. He came up, shaking the hair out of his face. If it wasn't his nightmares, it was his thoughts running even in the daytime, unwilling to let him forget. But he didn’t deserve to forget.

Above, he saw a flock of birds fly past. His leg was aching, but he figured the cold water would help the wound. The day before he had finally taken off the bandaging on his arm for good. There was left only a red, sore crooked scar. 

He wondered if Dean worried about losing Sam in the fight with the Marauders. No, he was sure of it.

His mind began to run over ways in which their confrontation with the Marauders could turn south. He realized, suddenly, that he couldn’t imagine, had never imagined, what would come after the fight. If he survived, what then? After so many years spent chasing revenge, he didn’t know how he’d live without the anger towards the Marauders pushing him forward, always. It’s what had kept him alive since Gabriel’s death.

Cas watched Dean grab Sam by the shoulders and dunk him. Dean and Sam both needed to survive the fight. Cas knew what it meant to lose a brother. If those two had each other, there was a future for them after stopping the Marauders once and for all.

The sun was hot on his head, and he moved his hands through the water, looked at the way they wavered and warped under the surface.

When the river became too cold to stand, they sat on the riverbank in a small patch of sun, on the hard packed sand. Cas watched Dean pick up his necklace, the ring glinting in the light. Dean caught Cas watching.

“It’s my ma’s wedding ring,” he said by way of explanation.

Sam looked up from where he was lying. “Let me see it?” Dean handed it to him and he turned it over in his hand. “I had all of Pa’s stuff at my house. All his journals. Everything's gone now.” He handed the necklace back and Dean slipped it on.

The water lapped at the shore in an uneven rhythm. Cas leaned his head back. Clouds were beginning to crowd the sky above them.

“You think Asa was telling the truth?” Sam asked suddenly. “What he said about Jessica?”

“Don’t go there, Sammy.” 

Cas looked at Dean quizzically and Dean shook his head. Whatever Asa had said, it must have struck deep.

“I never understood how Pa could drag us from town to town, always focused, driven,” Sam said. “Now I get it.”

“Just because he had a reason doesn’t mean it was right.” 

Sam looked at Dean. “You mean that? You? The one who always defended him?”

Dean raised his hands. “I don’t know, maybe I can see both sides. All I know is he didn’t make it easy on us.”

Puzzled, Cas watched Sam and Dean’s exchange. Back in Rebel Corners, when he had asked about Dean’s pa, Dean had said very little. Cas wondered now if there was something Dean hadn’t wanted to tell. 

Sam looked back up at the sky. “You think I’m wrong, for seeking revenge? For being willing to do anything to make those bastards pay?”

“No. You’re not wrong,” Dean said. “Trust me, I want them dead too.” He looked at Cas as he said it and Cas noticed water droplets drip from his ear, his hair.

Did he mean it, Cas wondered, for the both of them? _I don’t need his approval_ , he thought just as quickly and looked out at the water. But he couldn’t deny he wanted Dean’s understanding and the thought troubled him.

That night, Dean stoked the fire as Cas turned in for the night and Sam collected more firewood. Thunder rumbled in the distance and Dean glanced up at the sky. The stars and the moon were mostly obscured by clouds. 

“Better not start raining tonight," he said as Sam came back to the fire.

“Yeah.” Sam dropped brushwood on the ground. “These trees aren’t going to provide much shelter.” He sat down next to Dean. “So, ‘bout five more days of this.”

“Yup.” 

“I never really thought we’d get this far.”

Dean frowned. “I though this was your big plan. Get revenge on the Marauders in some end-all fight.”

Sam stared down at his hands. “It was. Is. I don’t know. I killed that motherfucker back at the train and I couldn’t even think straight, I was so angry. And for what? He’s dead, but so is Jess.” He shook his head. “What would she think of me now?”

“She’d be proud of you.”

“Right,” Sam snorted. “I tortured Ruby, for god’s sake. Who does that? All I could think about was revenge. I couldn’t even think about Jess.”

“Maybe it was easier not to.” Sam looked at him and Dean shrugged. “I mean, I try not to think about Pa or Ma.”

Sam nodded and looked away at the fire. “I do think of her, though. Sometimes...it feels like I can’t breathe, I wish I could just move on…Does that make me a horrible person?”

“No," Dean said. "Reckon anyone else in your situation would feel the same.” He heard a low roll of thunder and the horses move restlessly. “Listen, Jess ain’t someone you can just forget, move on from, but after all this, we’ll have to find something to do, something to keep occupied. Go somewhere new, find some steady work.”

“That what you did, after Pa died?”

“Reckon so.” Dean looked into the fire. “I just had to get away, clear my head.”

“Did it work?”

Dean looked at Cas asleep beyond the fire. “No.”

Sam was quiet. Then he wiped his eyes and stood. “Sorry. Maybe I’ll feel better tomorrow.”

Dean looked up at him. _And what if you don’t,_ he wondered. Aloud, he said, “You want me to take first watch?”

“No, go to sleep. I’ll stay up.” 

Dean nodded and settled down. Before he drifted off to sleep, he saw Sam still standing by the fire, staring out into the distance.

Dean crouched at the river’s edge and unscrewed the cap off his canteen, dipped the mouth under the water, and watched as bubbles rose to the surface. 

He heard footsteps behind him and turned his head to see Cas walking towards him. Cas stopped by his side and bent his knee to the ground to drop his hand into the water. “We’ve got a long ride ahead of us,” he said. 

Dean nodded and pulled his canteen up, screwed the cap back on. Cas ran his fingers across the rounded stones in the shallow water, and Dean watched the water purl through and around his fingers, lap at his wrist.

Cas looked at him, then. His eyes were an absolute blue like no sky Dean had ever seen, and Dean couldn’t look away, didn’t think to.

Cas lifted his hand out of the water and thin pearly beads ran down his arm, fell to the ground as he reached for Dean’s face—

Dean woke with a start.

It was still night and he was lying on the hard desert floor. He stared out into the dark. The fire behind him only lit a few feet ahead before the ground disappeared into shadow.

For a moment he wished he could sink back into dreaming—then the moment passed, the dream lost its realism, and he chided himself. What did dreams mean anyway? He’d dreamed of Cas often enough to know that’s all they were, fast dissipating visions.

He rolled over to face the fire and sat up. He felt a shock upon seeing Cas pacing at the edge of the firelight. 

Cas noticed him. “You still got at least an hour before your watch.”

Dean pulled his blanket over his lap and waved his hand. “It’s fine, I’m up. You go to sleep.”

Cas shrugged and sat down on his laid-out bedroll.

“Everything alright?” Dean asked.

Cas began untying his boots. “Yeah, just trying to keep myself awake.” He kicked off his boots and glanced at Dean. Even in the wavering firelight, his eyes were so blue. Dean felt an old stirring pulling him down a familiar road. He looked away. 

“It started drizzling for a bit,” Cas said. “But it stopped soon after so hopefully it holds off.”

"Yeah, hope so.” 

Cas lied down, and it was silent save the fire burning low.

Dean didn’t have the energy to add more wood so he sat and watched as the fire slowly smoldered.

He had recognized the river in his dream. It was the river he’d panned in Sutter Creek, the one he had camped beside, less than a mile away from Cas. A peaceful place, plenty of trees, shade, the constant splashing of the river. He didn’t even mind that he wasn’t finding anything in the way of gold. It was the first place he’d ever felt settled, like he could stay there a while.

His thoughts turned to Rebel Corners, of the night he went off with that woman after the train ambush. He’d thought that if he could just forget about Cas, about what had happened...but that had proved harder than he’d reckoned. 

He hadn’t slept with that woman, Lisa. He had been distracted, uneasy, even as he moved his hands down her body and she touched him. He couldn’t stop thinking of Cas, though he tried not to. Couldn’t even keep it up without thinking of Cas.

Lisa had pulled away from him. “There’s someone else on your mind, isn’t there?” she asked.

“It, it’s complicated.” 

She tried to kiss him again and he looked away. She sighed and leaned back against the headboard.

“I’m sorry, it’s not you—” he started, sitting up.

“You don’t have to apologize, it’s fine.” 

“I should go.”

“You don’t need to leave, I have extra rooms you can stay the night in.”

“No. I mean, thank you, but I need to go.”

She reached for a bell on her nightstand. “I’ll tell my maid to bring your clothes. I had her wash them while you bathed but they’re not fully dry yet.”

“That’s fine, thank you.”

The bell clanged loudly when she rang it. Pulling on her robe, Lisa asked, “Is she engaged to someone else?”

“She? Oh. No.”

“Married?”

“No. Just not interested.”

“I’m sorry.”

He had dressed and was leaving the room when she spoke again. “Listen, Dean. Don’t torture yourself, alright? It'll get better.”

He left and, though it was the middle of the night, couldn’t bring himself to go back to the motel. He couldn’t bear to see Cas, not then. So he spent the night in saloons, on front door stoops, on the corners of alleyways, until it grew light, and he couldn’t put it off any longer.

He stood now and put more brush on the fire, coaxed the embers back to life. He warmed his hands over the flames. 

He had it bad, didn’t he? It was ridiculous; he’d never been so distracted by someone before. Why couldn’t he just move on? Cas already had.

A memory rose. He and Cas had both been playing faro with a number of other people in a crowded saloon, but as the night wore on and the alcohol ran freely, the game had disintegrated, and it was just him and Cas talking, in two chairs pushed too close together—something he recognized vaguely at the time but couldn’t bring himself to mind. What had they talked about? It was a blur, but he had been laughing, Cas had been laughing.

Dean shoved his hands into his pockets, pulled himself away from remembering. Not tonight, not now. He glanced at Cas’s sleeping form and felt a pull in his stomach. It was only a dream; it was only a memory.

_Sutter Creek_

* * *

The rain held off the next day, though the air grew more humid and seemed to bristle with the energy of the coming storm. The day after, however, a mist filled the air in the early morning, soon giving way to a fine drizzle, nearly imperceptible at the pace they rode. Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed behind them at odd intervals.

The ground rose and fell in low hills, dotted with crooked trees and stones. A small house appeared in the distance and, as they rode closer, Dean read the word “Roadhouse” on a sign above the awning.

“We should stop here,” Sam said, pulling Mickey to a halt. “Maybe we can wait out the worst of the storm.”

Dean tipped his hat back to look at the sky where dark clumped clouds shifted, grew. “Sounds good to me.” He looked back at Cas, who nodded.

After putting up their horses in the three-walled stable next to the house, they went inside. Empty tables were scattered around a bar which took up the left side of the room. The place looked familiar to Dean, though he couldn’t place it.

“Howdy,” a brown-haired woman said from behind the bar. “It started raining out there for real yet?”

“Not yet,” Cas said as they sat at the bar. 

“Whatcha havin’?”

“Just whiskey,” Dean said and the bartender grabbed three glasses from a shelf behind her.

A young blonde woman carrying two bottles came into the room from the back. “Ma, tell Ash to stop being an asshole and to help me carry this stuff up here.” She noticed Dean, Cas, and Sam. “Oh.” She set the bottles on the bar. “We have customers.”

“That’s what I get for runnin’ a roadhouse in the middle of nowhere,” the bartender said good-naturedly as she set down three glasses and filled them. “Always empty in here nowadays. Used to be this was a stop on a stagecoach route, but what with the trains they hardly come this way anymore.” She pushed their drinks forward.

The young woman grabbed a rag and began wiping down the bar counter. She smiled at Dean and grabbed a newspaper off one of the barstools, making to throw it away.

“Can I see that?” Dean asked, and she slid it to him. Unfolding it, he turned to the front page where a bolded headline caught his eye. It read: _Marauder Escapes Custody._ He scanned the article. It was about the ambush they had stopped. The woman they had turned in, named Mara Ness, had gotten free.

The bartender was busy cleaning glasses at the other end of the bar and the young woman had moved to wipe down the tables. Dean pushed the newspaper over to Sam and Cas and pointed at the article.

“Shit,” Sam muttered. Cas shook his head. Dean heard rain begin to pound on the roof.

A loud bang made him look up to see a man carrying a crate come in through the kitchen, the door he had walked through smacking the wall. “Where you want these, Ellen?” he asked. Dean looked sharply at the bartender.

“Just place them over there, Ash,” she said, not looking up from cleaning.

“‘Bout time you started helping ‘round here,” the young blonde woman said, coming over to take a bottle out of the crate.

“Wait,” Dean said, looking at the bartender. “Excuse me, but you ain’t Ellen Harvelle are you?”

She looked at him. “Yeah, that’s my name. Why?”

Sam looked at Dean, then back at Ellen, realization dawning on his face.

“I’m Dean Winchester, John Winchester’s son. And that’s Sam.” He pointed at Sam and looked at the young woman. “You must be Jo, right?” Jo didn’t respond but looked at Ellen. 

Ellen’s expression was harsh. “Get outta my roadhouse,” she said.

“What?” Dean asked, bewildered.

“Where’s your pa?” She looked around as if he might have entered without her noticing.

“He passed away a few years ago,” Sam said.

“That’s what that sonuvabitch deserved,” Ellen spat. 

Jo’s eyes widened. “Ma!” 

“Now hold on a minute,” Dean said, riled.

“Your good-for-nothing pa is the reason my husband is dead,” Ellen said in a low, bitter voice. “Your pa was crazy. I shoulda never let him in here in the first place.” Her voice shook. “You boys better leave right now or I swear—” She turned away and Ash stepped forward.

“Alright,” he said. “You fellas should leave.”

Dean looked at Sam and Cas, then back at Ash. “I don’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Please,” Ash looked at Ellen, “just leave.”

Sam stood. “Come on, Dean.” Cas looked worriedly at him as they walked out of the roadhouse. 

Outside under the awning, when the door had snapped shut behind them, Dean stopped. “What the hell was that about?” he asked. Sam shook his head. The door behind them opened and Dean turned to see Jo. 

She looked back inside then shut the door behind her. “So it's really you.” She studied Dean and Sam. “I remember you fellas, your pa too.”

“We didn’t mean to upset your ma,” Sam said. “We had no idea. We didn’t even know it was you two at first.”

“What did she mean, our pa got your pa killed?” Dean asked. “Our pa never told us nothing.” He wondered if he truly wanted to know.

Jo crossed her arms. “I don’t know everything, it happened when I was young. Ma, she hates talkin’ ‘bout it.” She bit her lip. “From what I’ve heard, John came in here, talkin’ nonsense, sayin’ he was tryin’ a kill a demon or somethin’. Wanted my pa’s help. My pa went along, to make sure your pa didn’t get himself killed or, I guess, kill someone.” She shook her head. “Things went south. John threatened someone and there was a fight and my pa got shot.” She paused. “I remember them bringin’ Pa back here. John was already long gone. Pa never recovered, died a few days later, and we never saw John or you two again.” The rain fell with quick thumps on the porch roof. 

“I’m sorry,” Sam said. It seemed he might say more, but he fell silent.

“I don’t blame you two,” Jo said. She glanced back at the front door. “But you’re lucky your pa ain’t alive and with you now.”

“Reckon so,” Dean said. In his periphery, he saw Sam watching him. “Tell Ellen we’re sorry, if she’ll listen. If it’ll make any difference.” Jo nodded. He turned away and walked past Sam and Cas. “Come on. Let’s go.”

They rode away in the hammering rain. The wind gusted, leaving a chill.

It was a few hours before they found shelter along a canyon wall. The rock in one place had been hollowed out by years of wind and rain, making a shallow cave extending a few feet inwards. Crouched low under the rock ceiling, it was just big enough to fit the three of them. 

Even with his slicker, Dean was drenched, but the way the wind was blowing into the cave, he didn’t want to take off any layers. It was still warm enough, thankfully, that there was no risk of hypothermia. He sat with his back against the canyon wall, rain pouring to his right, wetting his sleeve. Cas sat to his left, and Sam sat in front of them with his back to the rain.

They hadn't said a word to each other since leaving the Roadhouse, but now, as Dean stared out at the rain-soaked desert, Cas spoke up. “How did you know that woman at the roadhouse?” he asked. 

Sam glanced at Dean. Dean dug the heel of his boot into the dirt, making a groove in the hard-packed sand. 

“Ellen was a friend of our pa’s,” Sam explained. “Jo’s her daughter. When we were young we’d stop by the Roadhouse every once and awhile. I don’t remember when we stopped. Guess it was around the time Jo’s pa died.” 

Dean knew the next question Cas would ask before he said it.

“What did Jo mean, that your pa was chasing a demon?”

Sam looked at Dean again, and Dean sighed and nodded in resignation. 

“Our pa was…” Sam searched for the right word.

“He wasn’t right in the head,” Dean finished. “Couldn’t handle our ma’s death. Reckon he needed some way to make sense of it, so he started saying witches killed her, then demons, blamed every myth he could.”

“I know he did some horrible things, even killed people,” Sam said. “But Ellen and Jo?” 

Dean nodded, avoided looking at Cas. “Ain’t right.” He shifted his legs. “We’re better off without him.” Sam studied him and he looked away, at the rain running in crooked rivulets down the rough canyon wall.

With the weather, keeping watch seemed unnecessary and so they all settled in for the night. Dean, unsurprisingly, couldn’t sleep. He stared up at the low canyon roof. The rain still pounded the ground a few inches to his side. 

“This ain’t the most comfortable spot is it?” Dean looked to his left to see Cas awake, less than a foot away, sitting up against the rock wall.

“Wish our bedrolls weren’t soaked.” Dean sat up. He kept his voice low and glanced at Sam. “Normally I’m the one who can sleep through anything anywhere.”

He pulled his knees to his chest, his elbow brushing Cas’s arm. In the dark, he could only just make out Cas’s features.

“I had no idea about your pa,” Cas said. “I’m sorry.”

Dean nodded. “He wasn’t always like that. It was my ma’s death that did it.” He looked at Sam, curled up to avoid the rain. “Sam was too young when she died to remember.”

“How did she die?” Cas asked, hesitantly.

“There was a prairie fire at our farm in Kansas. I don’t remember much and our pa never spoke of it.” In his mind he saw tall, orange flames, thick, black smoke. “I do remember watching my folks through the window, as they tried to stop the fire. My pa came running back and handed me Sam—he was only a baby then—and told me to run. Then the fire got too big and my ma got trapped.” 

Reaching down his shirt, he pulled up his necklace. He ran his thumb over the curled edges of his ma's ring, warped from fire into a gnarled, twisted circle. He dropped the necklace and it thudded against his chest. “Way Bobby tells it—he’s an old friend of our pa’s—our pa’s grief turned to rage soon enough and he swore the fire had been started on purpose. When he threatened a woman in town of being a witch and conjuring the flames, we had to go on the run. And we never stopped.” The quiet rage building in him found its outlet. “He was a selfish, obsessed bastard who didn’t know how to stop.”

He glanced at Cas, who was watching him, quiet. Dean didn’t sense any judgement from him or even pity. Just something that made Dean keep talking, though he’d never told anyone these things.

“I believed him, you know, when I was young. Thought skinwalkers and werewolves were real. Then one night, when I was ‘bout ten, my pa threatened a man, someone he said was a vampire. Cornered him in an alley with a long machete. And I remember the man’s face, how scared he was, how confused, and I realized he had no idea what my pa was saying. My pa was the crazy one. I grabbed my pa’s arm before he could do anything and the man got away.” Dean ran his hand through his still damp hair and laughed without amusement. “Got a pretty good beating for that. I learned pretty quick to humor him, to intervene without looking like it.”

“And Sam?” Cas asked. “He believe your pa too?”

“Sure, at first. But when he knew better, he could never go along with it like I did.” Dean looked at where Sam lay. “Maybe I should’ve turned my pa into the law, handed him over to some insane asylum. But I had to take care of him.” He rubbed the stubble on his face. “Didn’t do much anyway. Pa would disappear whenever I irked him too much. Wouldn’t see him for weeks at a time. And the last time he left, didn’t see him for nearly two months, and then heard he was dead. Shot in a saloon fight.” He shook his head. “Maybe Sam was right. Leaving, trying to have a normal life.”

“I don’t know if any choice was better,” Cas said. “You did what you thought was right. That was all you could do."

Sincerity, that was it, what he sensed from Cas. “Is that what you tell yourself? About staying with the Marauders because of Gabriel?” Dean didn’t mean it harshly. He truly wanted to know, wanted a way to make sense of his own actions.

Cas looked up at the rough stone ceiling. “It was the only choice.”

The rain seemed to be slowing. At least, it wasn’t pounding the stone above them with as much ferocity as before.

“In your place, with Sam,” Dean said. “I reckon I would’ve done the same.”

As Dean lay back down to try and sleep, he stared into the distance, into the black night. He heard Cas lie down, and then they were enveloped in silence.

Physically, he couldn’t feel Cas against him, but he was hyperaware of his presence so close. His heart was thudding inside his chest, and it rang in his ears in the quiet left by the absence of the rain. He didn’t know why it meant so much that Cas understood.

Thunder rumbled far off and, beyond where they sheltered in the cave, the wind howled, growing bold again. 

He wished he could remember every detail of that night in Sutter Creek, when everything had changed. But his memories were hazy, disjointed, obscured by drink and the way the night had passed so smoothly he could hardly hold onto a single second.

There were some moments, though, that he had clung to, that stood stark and vivid in his mind still. Upon recalling one, the rest followed, and he no longer had the will to halt them.

Though he and Cas saw each other often at the saloon during those spring weeks in Sutter Creek, spoke in passing, played across from each other in card games, that was the first night they truly talked, alone, and Dean was swept away, happier than he’d been in a long, long while, since Sam had left, since his pa had died.

They had left the saloon together and reached the place where they should have gone their separate ways, when Cas invited him to his campsite. And Dean agreed, though his heart pounded, and that was why he kept drinking though he was already drunk, because he couldn’t keep his hands from trembling.

Cas kissed him, first, and if the events before were muddled, now they were a blur. Dean felt alternatively too sober and too dizzy, his head spinning from drink or something else entirely.

It was in the way Cas pulled him to himself, the way Cas looked at him, his eyes dark pools in the dim tent. Not just the fact Cas was kissing him, but the way he kissed him, so deeply Dean wanted to moan, did moan as his fingers grasped at Cas’s jawline, at the nape of his neck in his soft hair, down to the dip of his collarbone.

Yet afterwards, lying there, his head still and settled, a familiar doubt had arisen. A jealousy—of Cas, of the easy way he acted, of how he lay so close. Dean himself had never been able to be so near someone without a quiet fear: he would fuck it up. It would end, inevitably. 

And his mind had begun to race for a way out, before the inescapable.

Thunder cracked in the night, and Dean blinked, shifted. His eyes were adjusted to the darkness now, and he could make out the ragged edge of the canyon against the sky. The clouds were thinning and points of starlight were piercing the heavy cover.

He didn’t have the courage to reach out and touch without getting drunk, like some sloppy mask, an excuse he could hide behind. And so he had reasoned to leave Cas, before Cas could leave him. Had risen and gone to his campsite in the early and faint morning light, and by the time the sun was shining overhead, had left Sutter Creek.

It had made so much sense then, or he had convinced himself it did. No ties. But now, eyes straining to discern the landscape beyond the cave, he wondered what if. For sometimes, on nights like these, he wanted Cas so badly he could hardly stand it. And he wondered if he had made a mistake.

* * *

“We were ambushed! How were we supposed to know they’d be on the train?”

“There were eight of you against the three of them.”

“They had help!”

Abby tapped her fingers against the wooden table where she sat and stared down Mara. Eight Marauders and bribed marshals to boot. The incompetency was unbelievable. Or she had underestimated Cas and the Winchesters. It was true she hadn’t reckoned on them anticipating the train robbery. Cas was smart, she would give him that.

Mara pushed her hair behind her ear. “The point is, I escaped, and Michael and Guthrie are still alive. If we ride now, we can rescue them before they’re hung.”

Abby pushed back her chair and stood, shaking her head. “Always something to fix,” she mused. “No. They failed to accomplish one simple task. Rob a train. That’s all. The marshals were going to turn a blind eye, you had the perfect shot, and you failed miserably.” She turned on Mara, abruptly, and Mara took a step back. 

“Cas and the Winchesters are coming,” Mara said. “If you let me and a few others ride out, we can finish them off now, I promise.”

Abby laughed. “Oh, that’s good. I should trust you? After you fucked up so badly?” In one fluid motion she drew her gun and fired. The earthen walls of the mine dampened the sound. 

Mara fell to the ground clutching her shoulder. Blood seeped through her fingers, and she tried to push herself up onto her knees.

Abby put her boot on Mara’s wound and pushed her back down. Mara gasped and stared back with wide eyes. 

“Sorry,” Abby said. “I missed your heart.” She looked around at the rest of the Marauders watching. “Take note. You fuck up my chances of getting revenge, this is what’s coming to you.” She fired at Mara without looking.

Abby sat back down and wiped the blood splatters off her gun as two men dragged Mara away, a deep hole where her right eye had once been. 

“Are we going after Cas and the Winchesters now?” Zachariah asked, coming to the table.

“No,” Abby said. “Let them come. They’re bold. They think they can take us after that train fiasco. But we’ll be ready for them this time.” She pointed her gun at the opposite wall and sighted it. “Cas will get what’s coming to him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo Source:  
> DeGolyer Library, Southern Methodist University  
> Yosemite Valley Part of: Landscape photographs of Yosemite, California  
> ag1982_0201_01c.jpg


	11. Hope to Die

The abandoned town was still some hours away, if Cas remembered the area correctly. A few yards ahead rode Dean and Sam, and, past them, the ground rose and dipped to the distant horizon lined by a canyon ridge. And over to the left, in the midst of the hills, was the hideout.

Last night, he’d had his all too familiar nightmare, had been forced once again to relive that fateful day when Gabriel died, forced to see himself transformed into someone he hardly recognized, a monster.

Except, last night, the dream had changed, turned. He had been the one pinned down, and Abby had carved away his eye. He had felt warm blood run down his neck and had seen his vision go dark—then woke in a sweat. It had seemed to be a miracle, the sight of the rugged rust canyon wall and, above, an azure sky striped with white wisps of clouds.

Cas didn’t believe in omens, but the dream still felt so vivid. A shiver ran down his spine to remember. Sudden panic overwhelmed him. What had he done, roping Dean and Sam and the rest into his own quest for revenge? When they didn’t even know the full story, didn’t know his guilt? 

He grabbed his canteen and took a drink. But why the doubt, now? This was what he wanted, what they all wanted, and it was what he needed to do. Not to absolve himself—he knew that was impossible—but to prove he could do the right thing. He would see it through.

Cas searched the land for any sign of the abandoned town, but the heat made the ground waver. Behind them, the ground sloped gently, obscuring the distance they had covered. The overhead sun beat relentlessly, settling on Cas’s shoulders so he drooped in the saddle, kept his hat low. He would see it through.

After crossing over a canyon ridge, following a narrow trail Cas was sure only the Marauders knew existed, and cresting a long hill, the abandoned mining town came into view. Dusty, decrepit structures—what was left of a general store, saloon, and a few houses—lined one main road. They cast long shadows in the evening sun.

Cas caught sight of two horses tied to the post of the former saloon—he knew this by the faded painted letters over the porch—and slowed, cautious. He saw Dean put a hand to the gun on his hip.

Then Celeste came out the saloon doors, sending them swinging behind her. “Howdy!” she called.

“You got here quick,” Dean said, dismounting from Tucker. 

“I wasn’t taking my sweet-ass time like you fellas,” Celeste replied. She leaned on one of the porch pillars. “We only got here this morning.” A brown-haired, shorter woman came out of the saloon and Celeste looked back at her and pointed. “This is Eileen. She brought dynamite.”

“Hey,” Eileen waved.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said. “What now?”

Celeste and Eileen grinned. “We’re gonna blow the hideout sky high,” Eileen said.

“Shit,” Sam said. He looked at Dean and Cas. “That’ll work.”

They went inside the saloon, and Cas found a piece of charcoal behind the bar. He began drawing a makeshift map on one of the tables. Back with the Marauders, he'd had to know exactly where the hideout was. It was well enough hidden that riders would miss it if they weren’t looking for it.

Celeste held up a glass filled halfway with a questionable brown liquid. “I found a coupla jars of this hooch in the back. Don’t know how old it is, but it tastes fine.”

Eileen signed something to Celeste, making her laugh, and Cas realized Eileen was deaf. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t realize…”

“Eileen lost her hearing in an explosion accident,” Celeste piped up. 

Eileen rolled her eyes. “Way to phrase it.” She looked at them. “It wasn’t my fault, it happened when I was an infant.” She looked down at what Cas had drawn. “So what’s the plan?”

“Alright,” Cas said. “We’re here.” He drew an X at the top of the table. “And the hideout is here, ‘bout ten miles away.” He drew a circle in the middle of the table. “It’s in the middle of a sorta valley, surrounded by canyon walls. The ground was carved away to make room for mining equipment. There’s two large spaces inside the mine and the tunnels extend further into the hill, but the Marauders blocked them off because they’re so unstable.” He looked at Eileen. “Do you think you can rig something up to bring the place down?”

“If we put dynamite around the entrance we can trap them inside. But they’ll see us coming. Are there any other entrances?”

Cas shook his head and Sam spoke up. “We don’t wanna just trap them inside. What if some of them survive the blast and find a way out?”

“There’s often a ventilation shaft in mines,” Eileen pointed out.

Cas frowned. “There was a hole in the ceiling in one of the larger spaces. Looked like a tunnel going upwards, but it was too narrow to climb out. And it was blocked off at the top.”

“Sounds about right. We could drop dynamite down through there into the mine.” Eileen took the charcoal and drew a quick diagram. “That would collapse the tunnels and drive everyone out through the main entrance.”

“Where we’ll be waiting,” Dean finished, filling a glass with the liquid Celeste had found. He took a drink and coughed, nearly gagging. “What the fuck is this shit?”

Celeste shrugged. “Honestly, it might be straight up piss.”

Dean grimaced, and she laughed and took another swig. 

“If I’m gonna do this,” Eileen was saying to Cas. “I’ll need to find the opening of that ventilation shaft above ground.”

“Everyone will split up into groups, and I'll go with you to find it.”

“Woah, hold on,” Dean said. “So you’re just gonna be searching for some hole in the ground?”

“I know the area,” Cas said. “We can climb the hill on top of the mine. The ventilation shaft opening will be up there. They’ll never see us coming.”

“What will the rest of us do?” Sam asked. 

Cas drew marks around the circle on the table. “You’ll hide on the ridge surrounding the mine. You’ll have a view of the entrance so that when the explosion goes off, you can pick off the survivors from afar before getting closer.” Cas looked down at the map. Everything seemed so simple drawn out, but he felt a surge of anxiety knowing their plans would soon be reality. He looked up at everyone. “Agreed?”

Dean nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”

When night fell, they split up to find places to sleep. Sam and Dean managed to find rooms next to each other in a house that was relatively stable and clean. At least, the bedrooms didn’t have holes in the floor.

“Celeste’s friend seems alright,” Dean said, leaning against the doorframe to Sam’s room.

“Yeah.” Sam tried to close the shutters over a window and one of the boards fell to the floor. “Guess this could be worse.” He ran a hand through his hair and sat down on his bedroll. “I just want this fight to be over with.”

“Same here.”

“Bet Cas is ready for a fight.”

“Reckon so.” Dean tugged at a splinter on the door frame. Wind whistled through the half-shuttered window. 

“Listen, Dean. About what Ellen and Jo told us—”

“I know,” Dean said. “It was fucked up, what he did.”

“You still believe Pa was a good man?”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Maybe he lost his way, but I know, deep down—” He shook his head. “Maybe that’s foolish.”

“I don’t hate Pa, Dean. He was a messed up son of a bitch, but I don’t hold it against you for staying with him...Really, I’m the one who was in the wrong. I should never have left and made you take care of him by yourself all those years.”

“It’s alright, Sammy,” Dean said. “Truly. I’m glad you could go off and make a better life for yourself. I won’t begrudge you that.”

Sam nodded and met Dean’s eyes. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

The floor creaked as Dean shifted. “Listen,” he started, “during the fight. Don’t try to play hero, don’t be going off on your own. We don’t know what the Marauders will do.”

“You’re worried?” Sam smiled.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Just don’t be an idiot, alright? I want you getting out of this in one piece.”

“Well, that’s the plan. And the same goes for you.” 

“Right, well.” Dean straightened and turned to leave the room. “Get some sleep. Bitch.” 

“Jerk,” Sam called after him and Dean smiled.

* * *

Cas brushed Angel’s coat in the small stable behind the houses. The stable was in well-enough condition, though a cold breeze hissed through a hole in the far side of the wall.

The door scraped open and Cas looked up to see Dean walk inside.

“Oh, hey.” Dean seemed startled. He walked to Tucker, the floor squeaking with every step. “You find a place to sleep?”

“Yeah, few houses down.” Cas dreaded sleeping tonight, dreaded another nightmare that would shake his resolve. He watched Dean run his hand along Tucker’s mane, and turned back to smoothing Angel’s coat to a shine.

“So,” he heard Dean say, “This fight with the Marauders. It’s really gonna happen. You ready?”

Cas shrugged. “I’m ready.”

“I just hope it turns out alright, ‘specially now with all this explosives shit.”

Cas paused in brushing Angel’s coat, wondering how much to say. Something in the quiet of the night, in his weariness, made him speak. “Truth is,” he started, “I’ve been thinking that...it’d be a helluva lot easier if I didn’t make it outta this one alive.”

“You don’t really mean that.” In his periphery, Cas saw Dean looking at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet Dean's eyes. “Why would you say that?”

Cas shrugged, began brushing Angel again. “Killing Abby won’t change anything. Everyone the Marauders have killed will still be dead. Always have to live with that.”

“Yeah. But at least there’ll be justice. You can’t just give up.”

“Wouldn’t be giving up,” Cas said quietly. “I’ve got no more a right to live than Abby and the others.” His hand tightened around the horse brush as he remembered…The fear in his eyes. Her screams.

“Cas, that’s not true.” 

Cas detected the uncertainty in Dean’s voice and raised his head. He smiled a bit at the worry in Dean’s eyes. “You called me a murderer once. Well, you were right.”

“Listen, what I said before,” Dean stepped around Tucker. “You didn’t deserve that. I know you’re not that kind of person, never were.” 

His sincerity made Cas suddenly want to cry. He looked away, shook his head. There was no point in tears now. What was done was done.

“I killed an innocent man, Dean. Shot him in front of his wife and kid.” Unbidden, tears welled up in his eyes and he blinked angrily. He stared at the floor, at the way the wooden floorboards buckled and hay lay strewn in between. 

“What happened? Why?” There was no anger in Dean's voice. Only concern.

Cas breathed in deep. He had never told anyone. He had never wanted to tell anyone. But Dean had to know who he truly was.

“I was with the Marauders, robbing a farmer and his family. I hated doing it. They looked like they needed the food more than us, but I thought that’d be it. We’d rob them and leave.” He shook his head. “I should’ve known better. Abby was in one of her cruel moods. The farmer was begging us to leave his family alone, and she got angry all of a sudden, ordered us to burn down his barn. And then she told me shoot him.

“I said no, there weren’t any reason to, I couldn’t do it. So Abby pointed her gun at Gabe and said she’d kill him if I didn’t obey.” Cas paused. The stable was quiet except for the horses swishing their tails and the wind whistling. He avoided Dean’s eyes.

“Gabe begged me not to, said he’d rather die. But I couldn’t let him die. So I shot the farmer. God help me, I killed him, right in front of his wife and daughter.” Cas’s heart pounded remembering the way his hands shook, how he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the blood pouring out of the hole in the man’s chest. The wife screaming her husband’s name, _Jimmy_. And the young daughter, staring at him in shock. “Gabe started yelling at Abby, cussing her out, and before I could move, Abby shot him and killed him.” Cas stopped, unable to continue.

“What happened to the woman and kid?” Dean asked quietly, like he knew.

“Killed.” His knees had buckled when Gabe was shot and he’d fallen, stunned, to the ground, had heard the ensuing shots ring out, though he didn’t watch, the wife's screams silenced in an instant. “I thought Abby was going to kill me. She should have. I don’t know why I fought.” He finally met Dean’s eyes. “Every day I remember. And it’s gonna haunt me forever, whether I kill Abby or not.”

“Their blood isn’t on your hands. You were forced—”

“I wasn’t. I had a choice.”

“That weren’t no choice. You were trying to save Gabe’s life. You were only thinking about him, just like why you joined the Marauders in the first place. I would’ve done the same in an instant to save Sammy.”

Cas realized he was still holding, clenching, the brush, and he tossed it into a wooden trough. It clattered as it hit the side. He crossed his arms against the chill of the night air.

“You were just trying to make a life for you and your brother,” Dean said. “No one in their right mind would hold that against you. Least, I don’t.” The intensity of his gaze surprised Cas. For a moment, he nearly believed Dean’s words for himself. 

He looked away. “Well, I can’t say I understand why you wouldn't. But thank you.”

Angel swished her tail at a fly. The flame inside the lantern Cas had hung on the wall flickered, the shadows on the wall shifting.

Dean was so close. Cas almost entertained thoughts...but no. He remembered, with a pang, the way Dean had disappeared after their night together, in Sutter Creek.

He grabbed the lantern. “Reckon I should be heading back.”

“Right.” Dean opened the stable door, gestured for Cas to go through first. As Cas passed him, though, Dean grabbed his arm. Cas looked at him, at his green eyes lit by the lantern light.

“I know you didn’t have to tell me, about all that,” Dean said. His eyes flickered away and back. “So I s’pose, thank you.”

Cas nodded. _You’re the only one I could ever tell,_ he wanted to say, but didn’t.

“You’re going to make it outta this fight alive, ya hear me? All of us are.”

Cas could only nod again. Dean let go of his arm and Cas stepped into the cold night. Dean shut the stable door behind them. 

“Goodnight,” he said.

“Goodnight.” Cas watched Dean walk away, then headed two houses down to where he had found a room.

Inside, he readied for bed. It was so much easier, wasn’t it, to ignore his attraction to Dean. To pretend he didn’t thrill every time Dean touched him, every time he caught Dean looking at him when he thought he wouldn’t notice. 

Cas sat on the mattress that had been left behind in the room, and hay fell from the loosely stitched fabric holding it in shape. Dean kept surprising him. Telling him about his father, his childhood, his mother. It only made it harder to deny the way Cas still felt about him.

Cas had tried so hard to forget about Sutter Creek in the months that followed, but he couldn’t, not really. Memories always surfaced when he thought they had faded...

That night long ago at the saloon. Drinking. Talking. Wondering if Dean felt the same. When Dean agreed to come to his campsite, he still felt so unsure. They had sat there next to the fire, sharing a flask, and Cas knew he could never get drunk enough to rid himself of the way his stomach plunged to be sitting so close. What made Dean so different than the other men he’d hooked up with? Why had he been so nervous? So worried Dean would reject him.

And they had sat there, fallen silent, when Dean shifted suddenly, reached over, and grabbed Cas's crotch. And when Cas raised his eyes to meet Dean’s, he saw in them a flicker of fear in the midst of drunken bravado. And it was this glimpse that led Cas to kiss him.

It was those moments Cas remembered now, the glimpses he caught of Dean that night, vulnerable without the emboldening effect of whiskey: How Dean pulled away from him at the sound of branches rustling in the trees behind them, and Cas, realizing why Dean had avoided him for so long, this fear of others knowing, stood, pulled him inside his tent. How in the shadowed interior, Dean’s hand trembled as he reached up to touch Cas’s face and Cas took his hand in his own, intertwined his fingers with Dean’s. How he saw a flash of a smile touch Dean's mouth before he pulled Cas down on top of him.

And then the memories that were not memories—the wishes and dreams that Cas had envisioned so often they seemed too real to only be fantasy. He could feel Dean holding his hand under a table in a crowded saloon, his eyes on only him so that the rest of the room faded away. Dean’s tongue tracing the scar on his hip. Riding next to Dean through a plain lit by the moon, the wind whisking away his breath, his head as light as a cloud.

And he’d envisioned, perhaps, telling Dean of his time with the Marauders, of killing that farmer, Jimmy. But he’d never been able to imagine a response. He’d never truly believed he could tell anyone. But now Dean knew and even understood. It was more than he could have ever hoped for.

Still though, Dean’s words echoed in his mind. _Drunken mistake._ It was what Cas had feared, wasn’t it? He had woken that night to Dean leaving and his heart had sunk. He had spent the rest of the day worrying until the evening, when he resolved to go to Dean’s camp. As he picked his way along the river bank, he planned his words. An apology. He had never wanted to take advantage—but Dean was gone, the site cleared, ashes from the fire scattered.

Lying down on the mattress, Cas snuffed out the flame in the lantern. The connection between them in Sutter Creek...it was still present, but he would only bring more pain by acting on it. He turned over and tried to sleep. 

When he dreamed, it was of that night in Sutter Creek. He saw himself lying next to Dean and watched himself, as if from above, as Dean rose and began to dress. He watched himself lie there awake but still, not saying a word. 

_Speak,_ he begged himself _. Say something. Before he leaves forever_.

Dean pushed open the tent flap and looked back at him. Watching himself, Cas remembered how he had feigned sleep that night.

But this time, his dream-self met Dean’s eyes. Held his gaze.

It wasn’t enough. Dean turned and left him.

* * *

James, Len, and Mia rode in the next day when the sun was high in the sky. At the horse hooves, Dean looked up from the table in the saloon where he was helping Eileen ready the explosives. Celeste rose, holding her gun, and looked out the window. 

“I’m assuming this is backup,” she said. 

Cas looked over her shoulder. “Yup. That’s them.”

The tread of footsteps on the porch, then James, Mia, and Len entered. 

“Hey there!” James said. 

Len’s eyes fell to the table piled with dynamite. “And what the fuck is that?”

Sam pointed at Eileen. “We’ve got ourselves an explosives expert.” Eileen waved.

“Alright,” Mia said. “That’s what I’m talking about.” She came up to the table, and Eileen showed her what she had rigged up. 

Dean heard James say, “Hey Cas,” and looked up to see him shaking Cas’s hand. 

“You wanna go over the plan, Cas?” Dean asked.

Cas’s eyes flitted to his. “Yeah. Sure.”

Showing them the map he’d drawn the day before, Cas explained the course of events planned.

Mia nodded slowly. “We got enough firepower to hold them off for a while. We’re ready.”

The room fell silent. Dean looked around, the realization heavy: this was it. He looked at Cas, suddenly worried. He hoped Cas’s words the night before, of wanting to die in the fight, had only been a lapse, a brief gloom that had lifted in the morning.

“Then are we doing this?” Celeste asked. “Tomorrow?”

Sam nodded. “Good as any day.”

“Alright then,” Cas said. “We’ll leave in the morning before it gets light. Get in position while it’s dark, and soon as it’s bright enough to see by, light ‘em up.”

Dean grabbed a jug of liquor from a kitchen cupboard and turned to see Mia come into the room. 

“We brought plenty of food, courtesy of Missouri,” she said, setting a burlap bag on the counter with a clank. 

“Great,” Dean said. “She ain’t still mad at us, is she?”

“Nah.” Mia pulled out a can of beans. “Well, long as we all get back safe and sound.” She looked at Dean and shrugged. “We’ll try our best.”

Dean nodded and went back into the main room. Sam was sitting at one of the tables talking with Eileen, actually signing some words. Eileen laughed as she corrected him. Dean shook his head. _Where does he learn this shit?_ he thought. Celeste was playing cards with Len, James, and Cas. Dean was about to join them when he heard horse hooves outside.

Setting down the jug he was holding, he grabbed his gun off the bar and rushed to the window. 

“Shh,” he said, waving at the others to be quiet.

“What’s the matter?” Cas asked. The hooves grew louder and his expression turned serious. He joined Dean at the window. 

It was too dark outside to see. Dean went to the swinging doors, standing to the side so he wouldn’t be seen.

“Who’s there?” he called. Wind blew through, threatening to push the doors wide open.

“Dean, is that you?”

Dean looked sharply at Sam. Sam stepped forward, hesitant. Dean peered out over the doors.

A shadowed figure dismounted and stepped into the block of light from the saloon.

It was Bobby.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean asked, lowering his gun. Bobby walked up the porch steps and pulled him into an embrace. 

“I’m so glad I caught you boys here,” he said. He hugged Sam. “I was afraid…”

Dean stepped back and looked at everyone else. “This is our good friend, Bobby,” he said, gesturing to him. He looked back at Bobby. “How’d you ever find us?”

“Oh I have my ways.” Bobby took off his hat. “Soon as yous left, I got worried. Didn’t know why I ever let you go off alone. Tracked you to Riverton then heard what you were up to. Crazy stunt you pulled with that train robbery.” He studied Dean and Sam. “You boys really planning on taking down the Marauders?”

“Yessir,” Dean and Sam said in unison. 

Bobby shook his head. “Well, I figured can’t stop ya, may as well join ya.”

“Bobby, this is Cas,” Dean said. Cas lifted his hand. “We’ve been traveling with him quite a ways. He tipped us off to the Marauders’ hideout not far from here.”

Cas extended his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Bobby shook his hand. “A hideout, you say?”

Cas smiled. “I’ll explain everything.”

After dinner, Dean and Sam sat with Bobby catching him up on all that had passed since they’d left his place.

Bobby shook his head. “You boys, always getting in trouble. I’m glad I came all this way.”

“It’s good to have you here, Bobby,” Sam said. 

“But that fella, Cas.” Bobby nodded at the table where Cas was talking to James. “Hows he know so much about the Marauders?”

Sam glanced at Dean before answering. “He was part of the Marauders once.”

Bobby raised his eyebrows. “And you trust him?”

“Yes,” Dean said. “He’s good, don’t worry.”

“Alright,” Bobby said. “Good enough for me.”

Celeste came over and plunked down a jug. “Need a refill?” She sank down into a chair at their table. “God, that Len can really talk your ear off, can’t he?”

“Where’s Eileen?” Dean asked, scanning the room. His eyes fell back to Cas.

“Went to bed. Which I guess we all should do soon.”

“So are you two...you know, together?” Sam asked.

Celeste snorted. “Me and Eileen? Nah. We go way back. She’s like a sister to me.” She drank from her glass. “Hell of a good bounty hunter. She’s had a few run-ins with the Marauders. As we all have.”

Dean saw Cas get up from the table and go into the saloon’s kitchen. “‘Excuse me for a moment, will ya,” he said. He pushed his chair back and followed Cas.

Cas was standing at the counter, rooting through one of cupboards. He looked over his shoulder when Dean entered the room. “Celeste said she found the booze in here, right?”

“Yeah.” Dean opened another cupboard and pulled out a jug. “Here.” He handed it to Cas.

“Thanks.” Cas absentmindedly tapped the cork fitted into the mouth of the jug. “Nice of your friend Bobby to come searching for you.”

Dean nodded. “He’s been watching out for me and Sam since I can remember. He’s more like a father to us, really. And he’s good in a fight.” 

“Good to hear.”

Laughter and talking bled in from the other room through the closed door. Dean leaned back on the counter. “Looks like James is glad to see you.”

Cas cocked his head. “I don’t know about that. He’s just here to fight the Marauders.”

Dean smiled a bit. “Right, yeah.” Why’d he follow Cas in here? Was he really that jealous? He straightened, made to leave.

“Dean.” He looked back. Cas set the jug on the counter. “I’ve been wanting to say, and I figured, who knows what’s going to happen tomorrow.” 

Dean waited, his heartbeat quickening. 

“In Sutter Creek.” Cas’s blue eyes met his. “I hope...I don’t want you to regret anything that happened between us. I went, that next day, to apologize, but you’d already gone.”

Dean couldn’t respond, could only stare at Cas in bewilderment. Then his own words came back to him. He dropped his head and shook it. “Cas, what I said. It wasn’t a drunken mistake.” He grasped for words. “You don’t know how happy I was. Thought we’d even have a chance at something more…but I panicked, thought you wouldn’t feel the same. So I left.” He hesitated. “That’s the only thing I regret. Leaving.” 

He crossed his arms, aware of his hands shaking. He could hardly bear to meet Cas’s eyes, afraid of what he’d see. But Cas only looked surprised, and sad. 

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” Cas said softly. 

Dean only nodded, not trusting himself to speak. In a flash, he was back in Sutter Creek, sitting in that saloon, looking at Cas, knowing he needed to be with him.

“I—” Cas started. 

The door from the kitchen opened and Dean startled. He looked to see Sam stepping into the room. 

“Hey.” Sam’s eyes flitted between them. Dean wondered how much he suspected. He took a step away from Cas. “Bobby wanted to ask us something, Dean.”

Dean hesitated, looked at Cas. Cas only watched him silently. The fear rose again in Dean, unbidden. What was Cas about to say to him? That he didn’t stand a chance?

Dean looked back at Sam and nodded. “Yeah, coming.” He followed Sam out the door.

Cas exhaled when the door closed behind Dean and Sam. His hands shook as he rested his elbows on the counter, put his head in his hands. All this time. 

Dean had been happy with him. Cas smiled despite himself. Then his smile fell. So Dean had been happy, once. What did it mean now? Everything had changed, including themselves.

Straightening, he grabbed the jug off the counter. Maybe Sutter Creek was all they would ever have—couldn’t that be enough? He left the kitchen, feeling suddenly dog-tired. Better not to think of it.

James looked up at him when he set the jug down on the table. “You alright?”

“Yeah. I’m going to bed. Early start tomorrow and all.”

“Good idea,” James said. Dean had his back to them and was talking to Bobby and Sam at a table across the room. 

James snorted and Cas looked back at him. “You two,” James said, jabbing his thumb at Dean. “You two have a thing, don’t you?”

“Oh, no.” Cas looked at Dean. “I mean, I don’t know.”

James uncorked the jug and filled up his glass. “Don’t worry, I’m happy for ya.” He raised his glass to Cas and Cas nodded. He looked back at Dean once more before leaving the saloon.

The rush of a cold breeze caused Dean to turn and see Cas leaving into the night. So all this time Cas had felt he was to blame. If Dean had known earlier, would it have made a difference? After all, he was the one who walked away. If only he had the courage...

“You hear me, Dean?” Bobby asked and Dean snapped back to their conversation.

“Yeah, I’m listening, sorry.” He leaned forward and tried to ignore the sinking sensation in his stomach.

Cas shut the door to his room and lit the lantern sitting on the floor by the mattress. He took off his coat and vest and slipped off his suspenders. He didn’t know how he’d sleep. 

Tomorrow. Who knew what would happen? His heartbeat quickened at the thought that he might never see Dean again after the fight with the Marauders.

_Focus_ , he told himself. He ran over the plan of attack in his head, and then realized he was thinking about Dean, about his smile when Cas had feigned ignorance about James’ interest.

There was a knock on the door and his heart skipped a beat. He opened the door. Dean was standing there.

“Dean?”

Holding his hat in his hands, Dean fiddled with the brim. “I left so sudden, when Sam came in, I didn’t want you to think—” He couldn’t look Cas in the eyes, too afraid of what he’d see.

Cas hardly dared move, scared Dean would disappear, but he stepped back and Dean walked inside the room. Cas shut the door and waited, watching Dean. 

Dean cleared his throat, spoke. “I just thought...I needed to know.” He raised his eyes to look at Cas and found strength in the way Cas watched him. He stopped turning his hat in his hands. “Like you said, this may be our last night. And I need to know...if you felt the same as I did that night in Sutter Creek. Feel the same now.”

In an instant, Cas was looking into Dean’s eyes lit by a campfire, so open, so vulnerable, and in an instant, he was feeling the same falling sensation. He began to speak in a rush. “I never expected you to—well, knew I didn’t deserve because I’ve done plenty wrong and…” Cas paused and found what he needed to say. “I’m no angel, but I’ve fallen for you. Ever since I first saw you. Completely.”

At Cas’s words, a wave of relief flooded Dean. It was alright, it’d always been alright, and Cas saw enough in Dean’s gaze, understood. So before he never got the chance again, Cas stepped forward and kissed Dean.

Dean pulled Cas closer, kissed him back. So simple to be with him, he felt lightheaded at the wonder of it. And Cas felt almost desperate, not from anxiety but from desire, from all the days leading to this one. He fumbled at the buttons on Dean’s shirt, Dean kissed his neck, pulled the shirt open, Dean pulled it off, felt it touch his foot as it landed on the floor. Dean pushed him gently down onto the bed and Cas pulled him down on top of himself.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” Dean murmured. He helped Cas unbutton his shirt, kissed Cas’s collarbone, his stomach.

Cas intertwined his fingers in Dean’s hair. “I’ve wanted you always.” He pulled Dean’s chin up and looked in his eyes. Feeling almost delirious in his happiness, Dean kissed him, and Cas closed his eyes. Everything he had dreamed come true, everything he had needed though he hadn't known it.

* * *

The night was not yet past when Dean woke. He woke in the contentment of knowing where he was. No confusion, only a deep calm. He was here, next to Cas, his head under Cas’s chin, against his shoulder. He felt the rise and fall of Cas’s breathing, the weight of his arm across his chest, his legs between his.

It was dark, but Dean heard voices outside, movement. Cas stirred and Dean knew they had to rise. He sat up and Cas looked up at him from where he lay. He traced Dean’s hand, running his finger down Dean’s wrist, in between his fingers along the blanket. At a loss for words to speak, Dean leaned down and kissed him.

They dressed. Dean moved the curtain slightly aside to look out the window and saw lights moving. Someone was leading a horse from the stable and a lantern swayed.

Cas came up behind him and wrapped his arms around him. Dean dropped the curtain. He turned and held Cas, buried his face in Cas’s shoulder. He felt Cas’s heart beat and he held him tighter.

Somewhere in the house, Dean heard doors opening and closing, Sam’s voice asking for him. Cas let go of Dean, stepped back to look at him. 

“Time to go,” Dean said. Cas nodded. Dean touched his cheek, then went to the door and opened it.

Cas grabbed his gun and holster off the floor. “I was just talking to Cas,” he heard Dean say in the hallway. 

Sam appeared in the doorway. “Ready?” he asked Cas.

“Yes.”

Outside, Cas led Angel from the stable to where Dean and the rest were standing at the back door to the house.

Eileen nodded at him. She had a large pack slung over her horse. The explosives. The cool air brought Cas’s senses back to him. It was time. 

He mounted Angel. “See you there,” he said to everyone. They’d ride out after him and Eileen to avoid making too much noise. 

He pulled on his riding gloves and searched for Dean. There, leaning against the doorway, the warm light behind him hazing the outline of his body.

“Stay safe,” Dean said and Cas nodded, unable to speak. He flicked the reins and rode off into the night by the light of the moon.

_And over there, in the midst of the hills, was the hideout._


	12. Dead of Night

Circling the valley where the mine was located, Cas and Eileen left their horses at the base of the hill covering the mine and climbed until they reached the top where it plateaued. The moonlight dappled the ground through a cover of trees, and they crept forward silently.

Finally, through the mass of branches and leaves, Cas could see open air where the hill dipped suddenly, down to the entrance of the mine tucked at its base. 

He touched Eileen’s shoulder and pointed to the ground. “It should be close,” he whispered, unsure whether it was light enough for her to read his lips. She must have understood enough though, because she nodded and began searching for the ventilation shaft. Cas made his way through the trees, straining to see anything along the shadowed ground.

Though he was intent on finding the mine shaft, he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering. He could hardly believe how everything had changed so quickly. He found himself smiling to remember. Dean had told him about Rebel Corners, how he broke things off with that woman before anything happened, how he couldn’t stop thinking of Cas and wandered the streets until it was light out. Cas kicked aside some leaves with his boot, exposing only dirt. Why had they waited so long, wasted so much time? So jealous, so unsure, and all along...

Cas froze. He had heard a twig snap behind him though he could see Eileen a few feet ahead.

After a few seconds, when there was only silence, he began walking again into a thicket of trees and brush. When he thought he was obscured enough, he turned abruptly, crouched behind a tree, and waited.

First only the sound of a slight wind rustling the treetops, then the sound of leaves crunching softly. A man appeared from where Cas had come from, walking tentatively with his gun held at his hip. He passed the tree Cas hid behind and Cas waited a beat before rising and grabbing the man from behind.

He hooked his arm around the man’s neck and the man struggled, raising his gun. Cas knocked it out of his hands with his free arm before the man could fire it into the air. He tightened his grip and the man let out a choking noise. Though he continued to struggle, the man's movements soon began to slow and, finally, he sagged heavily. Cas let him drop to the ground and looked up to see Eileen hurrying over, holding her gun.

“Everything alright?” she asked. She looked at the man on the ground.

Cas nodded. “They must have posted lookouts.” He rolled the man over and recognized him as one of the Marauders. Zachariah, one of Abby’s right-hand men. It had been a close call.

“I’ll grab rope,” Eileen said. Cas took out his handkerchief and gagged Zachariah. They tied him up and dragged him to a clearing in the trees.

As they left him still unconscious to continue searching for the mine shaft, Cas wondered if the others had run into lookouts as well. He hadn’t heard any gunshots, so with luck the Marauders were still unaware of their approach.

Half an hour later, Eileen found the mine shaft opening a few yards from the plateau’s edge. Covering it was a square, wooden door with a rusty handle, partially obscured by grass and leaves. If they opened it now, Cas knew, they’d alert everyone inside. They’d have to move fast when the time came: open the door, throw the explosives inside, and run like hell.

Swinging her pack off her shoulder, Eileen began removing the small bundles of dynamite, rope, and fuses.

Cas looked out past the tree line to the darkness slowly lightening. He could almost discern the opposite embankment where Dean and Sam would be waiting for his signal.

Eileen tapped his shoulder and he turned. “All ready,” she whispered. The dynamite was arranged around the wooden door. Cas nodded and looked up. The dark branches of the trees stood out against the now dark blue sky.

“Almost time.” Eileen nodded and began unwinding a wire outward from the pile. She would light one stick of dynamite, drop it into the hole, then retreat, and Cas would light the others from afar. 

Cas stood. Everyone should be in their places now. For so long, he had waited for this moment. And now that it was here, there was only one person on his mind.

* * *

Dean and Sam crouched in the shadow of a large rock on the embankment across from the mine. Dean peered over the top. The gaping mine entrance was washed in shadow but above, where Cas and Eileen were, the tree tops were shimmering in the rising sun’s rays.

He readjusted his grip on his gun and crouched down, his back to the rock. He wished the fighting would start already. Better yet, be done and over with. He looked over the edge of the rock again. No sign of Cas.

Sam picked up a handful of tiny pebbles and let them fall out of his hand. Looking up at the now violet sky, he said, “Not long now.”

“Yup.” Dean cleared his throat. _What the hell_ , he thought. “There’s, uh, something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

Sam looked at him. Someone needed to know.

“Cas and I, uh, back in Sutter Creek, we weren’t just acquaintances.” He looked back out at the ridge where Cas was.

“Um. Alright.”

“No, I mean, we…” _Spit it out_ , he thought. “Slept together.” The words hung there. Chancing a glance at Sam, he saw him fighting back a smile. “What?”

“Nothing, I just,” Sam broke into a smile. “I knew there was something between you two.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Great. Well now you know.” He couldn’t help but smile too, though.

“So what about now?” Sam asked. “Are you two still...together?”

Dean wondered how to answer. Then movement to the left caught his eye. From their elevated position, he could see someone, it looked like a woman, climbing the embankment, headed in their direction.

“Look!” he whispered, grabbing Sam’s arm and pointing. The woman disappeared behind a pile of rocks. “Someone’s over there.”

He started to rise, but Sam pulled him down. Dean spotted Cas on the opposite hilltop, waving something white.

“That’s the signal,” Sam said. “Get down.”

Dean and Sam hunkered behind the rock. Putting his hands over his ears, Dean waited.

And then an explosion roared, echoing across the valley. A few seconds later the second blast went off, louder than the first, and he felt the reverberations in his chest. 

* * *

“You good?” Cas yelled. Eileen nodded and waved for him to go. She stood at the edge of the hill, half behind a tree, aiming at the valley below.

Cas turned and ran down the hill to where their horses waited. He had to get down into the valley and find Abby, if she was still alive.

He heard a horse whinny and stopped short, hidden in the brush. He peered through the cover. _Shit_. Zachariah had gotten free and found their horses. Angel reared and neighed as Zachariah tried to grab her reins.

Cas pulled his gun from his belt and fired. Zachariah yelped and fell to the ground clutching his leg. 

Keeping his gun trained on him, Cas stepped out from the tree cover. “You just don’t know when to quit, do you?” he said. 

“Cas Novak.” Zachariah grimaced. Blood stained his fingers where he held the wound on his thigh. He let out a string of curses.

“Where’s Abby?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” 

Cas stepped forward and grabbed Zachariah’s collar, pressed his gun to Zachariah’s forehead.

Zachariah sneered. “She kept saying you'd come, but I didn’t think you’d show. Guess you’ve got more of a death wish than I figured.” 

“Reckon so,” Cas said. He hesitated to shoot. He could tie Zachariah up again, keep him alive to turn him into the law, but then again, Zachariah wasn’t doing him any favors alive.

In his hesitation, Zachariah swung his arm and Cas felt a sharp pain across his side. He jerked back and dropped his hold on Zachariah, who he now saw was holding a knife. Zachariah staggered to his feet and slashed the knife at Cas again, missing wildly. Cas fired and Zachariah fell to the ground with a thud.

Blood rose from his chest in spurts and stained the ground. Zachariah twitched, coughed up blood. “You bastard,” he croaked. He coughed again, violently.

“You brought this upon yourself,” Cas said.

“Go fuck yourself.”

Cas fired. Zachariah shuddered and was still. 

Gingerly, Cas touched his side. Though the cut wasn’t deep, it stung. But he had no time to think about that now.

He mounted Angel. Time to find Abby.

* * *

Dean waited until the dust settled around them. His ears rang as he peered over the top of their rock cover. Screams came from the hazy, dust filled valley below. In all the smoke, he couldn’t see the mine entrance or the woman he had spotted before the explosion.

Then shots rang out from his left and right where Celeste and the others were stationed. The dust began to fade and he spotted some figures crouched in the mine entrance. He raised his gun and fired. They ducked back. 

“She’s getting away!” Sam yelled, pointing. The woman from before was now climbing up the embankment in haste, trying to escape. Dean fired. She ducked behind some rocks.

Dean and Sam half-crawled to the left where the hill embankment descended steeply to the valley and a makeshift path appeared. The escapee was somewhere down the hill. Dean crouched behind a pile of rocks. He looked out and around but couldn’t see anyone. Then he caught sight of long brown hair and a bullet shattered the rock next to his face.

He threw himself back behind the rock. “No way.” He looked at Sam. “You sure know how to pick ‘em.”

“What?” Sam asked. He fired over the rock blindly, then took a quick look over the top before ducking back down. “Ruby,” he glowered. “How the hell is she still alive?”

“I know that’s you, Sam Winchester!” Ruby called. Dean rolled his eyes. “Thought I saw you from my lookout. You trying to be a hero? Coming to our turf to kill us?”

Dean tried to figure out a way to get a clean shot at Ruby. She was a little ways down the hill, so they’d have to get closer. He pointed at a large rock across the path, further down, and Sam nodded. He shot at Ruby and Dean took the chance to scramble out of cover. He reached safety, skidding to stop and scraping his hands, before Ruby recovered and fired.

Dean panted and leaned his head against the rock. He fired at Ruby and saw Sam run to another spot with a better vantage point.

“Is this making you feel better, Sam?” Ruby called. Dean hoped he’d have enough ammo left. He had left the rest of his supplies up the hill where they had waited for the explosion. “Avenging the death of your sweet little wife?” Ruby continued. “You told me all about her, remember?”

_Shut up, bitch_ , Dean thought. Ruby couldn’t go back down the hill without getting caught in the fighting near the mine. She was trapped. They just needed to get a little closer.

He began to crawl forward, then ran across open space to hide behind a tree. Ruby didn’t shoot.

He spotted Sam a few feet above him. _Is she out?_ Dean mouthed. Sam shrugged.

“You know you’re trapped,” Dean called to Ruby. “How ‘bout you come out here and we can have ourselves a nice chat?”

“Fuck you Winchesters.” She sounded closer and Dean snuck a glance out from behind the tree. If he could just get behind her without her noticing. He took a step and a shot splintered the tree trunk, sending him back. 

_Son of a bitch_ , he thought. He looked up to see Sam shaking his head at him. Dean raised two fingers and pointed at his gun. Sam checked his gun and held up three fingers. 

Ruby had to be running out of ammo, but she had the best vantage point. Dean wondered if Cas was having any more luck.

* * *

Skirting around the ridge, Cas found where the sandstone parted. He entered the valley and found cover behind a small shed to dismount and reload his gun. Smoke from the explosion and firing covered the area around the mine in a haze. Then someone ran towards him and he raised his gun. 

“Don’t shoot!”

He recognized Celeste running to him. She was clutching her arm. “Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’ll be fine. Len, though.” She hung her head. “He’s dead. I don’t know if anyone else—”

“Get to safety,” Cas said, “I’m going in.”

“No, I’m staying here.” She wiped grime from her forehead with the back of her free hand. 

Cas tried to discern the obscured shapes in the valley. “Have you seen Dean, or Sam?”

Celeste shook her head. “Abby neither. There’s two people inside the mine still firing. Some people got out, though we picked most of them off. If anyone tries to escape through here, I’ll get them.”

Cas nodded. “Keep safe,” he said and left the shelter of the shed. He weaved his way around rusted mining equipment. At a volley of shots, he spotted James rise from a pile of sandbags and fire at the mine.

He looked up at the ridge. No sign of Dean. Shaking his head, he brought his attention back to the valley. Dean could take care of himself. But where was Abby?

* * *

As Sam shot at Ruby, Dean got out from behind the tree and scrambled down the hill. He could just see the top of Ruby’s head from behind a pile of rocks. He fired and she ducked and disappeared. Dean motioned to Sam and Sam made his way down the hill. When Ruby began to raise her head, Dean gestured to stop and Sam ducked down. Ruby held her gun but didn’t shoot.

Either she was out or she was bluffing. Deciding to go with the former, Dean looked at Sam and mouthed, _Ready?_ Sam nodded. 

Dean rushed to where Ruby was hiding. She spun around and lifted her gun but couldn’t get a shot off before he tackled her. 

She snarled and kicked at him. Trying to avoid getting his eyes clawed out, he lost his grip and Ruby rose halfway to her feet. A shot rang out and Dean flinched as blood splattered on his face and Ruby fell on him. He shoved her off and pushed himself to his feet. 

Sam stood a few feet away. He lowered his gun and made his way to Dean’s side. Dean looked down at where Ruby lay, still alive, clutching the wound in her stomach.

“You fucking bastards,” she choked out. Blood trickled from her mouth and she looked at Sam with a murderous glare. “This won’t change anything. You’ll never win. You’re gonna die a sniveling little bitch, haunted by a wife you couldn’t save.”

“Then at least I’ll have the satisfaction of killing you,” Sam said and fired.

Dean turned from Ruby’s dead body to Sam. “You alright?” He wiped with his sleeve at the blood on his face. Sam nodded.

Picking up Ruby’s gun, Dean checked the cartridge. “Huh.” He showed Sam the one bullet left. “Guess she wasn’t out.” 

Sam gave him a look. “I thought you said we weren’t going to take any risks.”

“I said _you_ aren’t going to.” He looked down the path. The shots and screams from below had become more intermittent. “Alright, let’s grab our ammo and head down there.”

Sam nodded and Dean followed him up the path. He tried to avoid wondering if Cas was still alive. _Focus_ , he told himself.

* * *

There was only one man left in the mine entrance, and he’d been quiet for some time so Cas guessed he was out of ammo. He saw Mia and James edging their way closer to the entrance. 

He’d picked off one person trying to escape. Now, the valley was eerily quiet. The sun had cleared the top of the ridge and the bright sunlight glinted off the mining equipment. 

Maybe Abby had died in the explosion. Cas made to follow Mia and James when a chorus of bullets pinged against the mining equipment around him. He threw himself to the ground.

There were some bastards still alive, then. The shots were coming from across the valley. He fired in their general direction before yanking his arm back. A rip in his sleeve and a red streak across his arm showed where a bullet had grazed him.

A revolver cracked near him and he startled. To his surprise, Dean appeared at his side. 

“Come on, I think I killed them!” Grabbing Cas’s hand, Dean pulled him to his feet and they ran past the equipment to a stable half-collapsed in on itself. They skidded to a stop and crouched behind it.

Dean touched Cas's shirt. “Are you alright?” he asked. “You’re bleeding.”

In his adrenaline, Cas had forgotten about the knife wound to his side. “I’m fine. You?”

Blood was smeared on Dean’s face, but he didn’t look injured. “Well, Ruby’s dead. Sam spotted that sonuvabitch he tried to put in jail back in Windrixville. The fucker managed to get a horse and start riding off so Sam and Bobby are going after him. Did you get Abby?”

Cas shook his head. “I think she died in the blast.” He looked out at the valley through a broken slat in the stable. Shots continued to ring out, though he couldn’t see who was shooting. 

Then, he spotted a flash of movement. He caught his breath. A familiar figure was picking her way through the mess towards a pass in the surrounding ridge.

Dean followed his gaze. “Is that…?” 

His heart pounding, Cas nodded.

Dean cocked his gun. “Go after her. I’ll cover you.” Cas looked at him, at his mussed hair, his collar stained with blood and dirt, his wide eyes. Dean met his gaze. “She doesn’t stand a chance,” he said.

Tearing his eyes away, Cas began to stand, ignoring the biting pain in his side. 

“Wait,” Dean said. He grabbed Cas’s arm, pulled him down, and kissed him. For a brief second, the commotion around them fell away. Then the moment ended and Cas knew they weren’t out of the fight yet.

“Alright,” Dean said. He looked through the gaps in the stable wall. “On your mark.”

Cas took a deep breath and ran into the fray. 

* * *

Shots rang out when Cas ran off and Dean returned fire. When he glanced back at where Cas had gone, Cas had already disappeared. 

He turned to concentrate on getting a clear shot at whoever was still alive. He spotted a woman a few yards across from him hiding behind a wagon. She lifted her head to fire and Dean drew a bead and fired back. Silence followed and he thought he’d gotten her, but soon enough she returned with three shots in quick succession.

Dean reloaded. He’d be good for two more rounds. A shot rang out to his left and a bullet struck the stable wall. Now someone else was firing at him too. 

“How many of these bastards are left?” Dean muttered. He fired back.

* * *

Cas ran from cover to cover, painfully aware of the bullets whizzing by dangerously close. Ahead, he spotted Abby as she reached the pass leading to the open desert beyond. She was limping.

Cas aimed, fired. It was a warning shot, striking the rock wall to the left of Abby. She spun around, caught sight of him, and grinned menacingly. 

All his rage pent up through the years rose suddenly, and Cas struggled to keep his hands from shaking as he approached Abby. She wasn’t holding a gun, and Cas didn’t see one in her holster, but he was still wary.

“Ah, Cas,” Abby said as he got closer. “The avenging angel. You’ve shown up at last.” Blood trickled down from a cut along her hairline.

“It’s over,” Cas said, gesturing to the chaos behind them. They were hidden from view of the valley, standing as they were in the narrow pass. “We’ve got the upper hand, the Marauders are finished, and soon you’ll be dead.” He cocked his gun.

“Well.” Abby smiled. “You have to kill me first.” She charged Cas suddenly and he fired. The shot grazed her shoulder and she knocked the gun out of his hands. She struck Cas on the side of his head with her fist and he stumbled back, catching himself before he fell. He tackled Abby before she could reach down and grab his gun. 

Abby grunted as she hit the ground but recovered quickly enough to knee Cas in the groin and push him off. Cas tried to catch his breath but she slugged him in the face, once, twice, then staggered to her feet. Cas lunged for her, but she stepped back and snatched up his gun.

She waved it at him when he tried to rise so he stayed down, glaring up at her. Her one pant leg was ripped, exposing torn, bloody flesh, and she favored her other leg.

“Nice stunt you pulled back there, blowing up the mine.” Abby checked the barrel of Cas’s gun. “One bullet. Guess I’ll have to make it count.” She tsked and stepped closer, aimed at Cas’s forehead. “Such a shame. You really did have potential. But you always were too soft.” She gestured to her eyepatch. “And, well, I’m afraid I can’t forgive you for this.”

“You’re a coldblooded murderer,” Cas said, his voice quivering with rage.

Abby laughed. “That I am.” She lowered the gun, aimed at Cas’s knee. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?” She pulled back the trigger.

* * *

Dean ducked back behind the stable and splinters showered above his head at the impact of bullets. He waited a few seconds, then pointed his gun over his cover and pulled the trigger.

Click. 

“Fuck,” he muttered. All out. 

The woman behind the wagon was dead, taken out by a clean shot to the head. Now Dean waited for a pause in the firing from his left. At a few second’s silence, he ran out from behind the shed to his left, to a pile of lumber.

From this new vantage point, he could see the man who had been firing at him hunkered behind a tipped-over cart. The man peered over the edge and fired again at the shed where Dean had been hiding. So he hadn’t seen Dean escape. _Idiot_ , Dean thought. 

From where he was now crouched, Dean had a perfect shot, but he’d have to make do without his gun. Shaking his head, he steeled himself. Then he rushed the man.

The man yelled in surprise as Dean slammed into him. His gun went flying and Dean grabbed the man’s collar, pulled him up, and slammed his head back into the ground. Just as quickly, however, the man swung his arm up and broke Dean’s grip, knocking him into the cart. Dean’s head hit the side with a thump that resonated in his ears.

The man loomed over him and Dean now realized how large he was. He punched Dean in the face, making his ears ring again. Trying to stop another hit, Dean grabbed at the man’s arm but instead caught a fist to the ear. He raised his arm over his face to block the ensuing blows.

They ceased, and Dean opened his eyes to see the man half-crawling away, reaching for his gun. 

Dean scrambled after him and grabbed the man’s coat. He caught an elbow to the nose but managed to clamber over the man to reach the gun first. He rolled over onto his back, pointed the gun, and the man swatted it out of his hands. Dean watched it land out beyond the cover of the cart. 

Before he could react, the man put a knee on his chest and wrapped his meaty hands around his throat. Dean clutched at his hands, but their grip was too strong and the man didn’t let up. He had Dean pinned down and, try as he might, Dean couldn’t get free. 

The man squeezed tighter and Dean struggled to breathe both from the pressure on his chest and the constriction of his throat. He grabbed at the man’s hands again and the back of his head was slammed into the dirt before the man only tightened his grip. 

“Die you little shit,” the man muttered. Black spots rose in Dean’s vision and he began to panic. 

_Not like this, not now,_ he thought desperately.

But his chest ached with the effort to breathe, and his hands dropped to the ground as he lost the energy to continue fighting. The spots crowded his vision and he lost consciousness.

* * *

In the split second before Abby fired, Cas threw himself forward and grabbed her injured leg. She fell on her back and the shot ricocheted on the dusty ground. Cas tried to wrestle the gun from her grasp, but she whipped the gun upwards, hitting his chin. 

Cas fell backwards, his head spinning. Through his dizziness, he saw Abby pull out a knife and stagger to her feet. She kicked him in the head as he tried to rise and he fell back again, stunned. 

Gripping her knife, Abby crouched over Cas and grabbed his collar, shoved him back into the dirt. She held the blade over his face. “An eye for an eye,” she said. Cas saw the blade become two as she lowered it over his left eye.

He grabbed her arm holding the knife and struggled to keep it back. Abby let go of his collar momentarily to slug him in the face. Despite the blow, he kept his grip on her arm. 

“Stop struggling,” she panted. “You know I’ll win, I always win.” 

“Go to hell,” he growled, and Abby twisted her arm, freeing herself from his grasp. 

She whisked the blade down and Cas jerked his head away. It caught him on the side of the head. Sharp stinging, then the sensation of warm liquid running down into his ear. 

Seeing Abby draw her knife back again, Cas freed his leg out from under her and kicked. He hit her squarely on her injured shin, and she gasped as she fell back, sitting hard. He kicked again and his boot caught the side of her face. He saw the stunned look in her eyes as she recoiled and dropped her knife.

Cas pushed himself to his knees, the coarse sand grating against the cuts on his palms. Shots and yells from the valley still filled the air.

“You fucking cunt,” Abby growled, attempting to stand. Her eyepatch had fallen off, exposing the white scar tissue and crooked stitches in the place of an eye. She fell back to the ground, blood now flowing swiftly from the wound in her leg.

Cas stood, the gunshot wound on his leg throbbing, and Abby let out a sharp bark of laughter when he picked up her knife. 

“So predictable, Cas,” she said as he walked to her. She squinted up at him, her one eye fixed in a steely gaze. Cas grabbed the back of her head with one hand and pressed the blade to her neck. “Sure you can do it?" she asked. "Then again, I wasn’t sure you’d be able to kill that farmer, but you did it easily enough.”

“I never wanted to kill—”

“Oh give me a fucking break,” Abby spat. She trembled in anger and the blade scraped her skin. “You, with all your guilt and the lies you tell yourself. No. Pushed to the limits, you’ll do anything.”

“You killed Gabriel.” Cas’s hand shook and he pressed the blade harder to Abby’s neck. A thin line of blood appeared, running down to her collar.

Abby smiled darkly. “And ya know what? I’d do it again. That motherfucker deserved to die, same as you.”

Rage swelled in Cas. He pressed the blade deeper into Abby’s neck and saw a flash of fear cross her face before she narrowed her one eye. “Look at you, Cas. Killing Rafael, Bartholomew, every one of us who crossed your path. You’ve got as much blood on your hands as anyone. You’re not so righteous.”

The anger threatened to choke him. Killing Abby wasn’t good enough after what she had done, after what she had put him through. He saw, in an instant, Gabe crumple to the ground, a thin line of blood streaming out of his forehead. He saw Jimmy fall, lifeless, and felt his chest constrict. He felt the pull of his knife through Abby’s eye, heard her shrieks. Felt again the satisfaction of shooting Chuck once, twice, three times and watching his features twist in pain.

And then he saw Dean. Saw the way Dean flinched when he turned on him after torturing Chuck. The fear in his eyes, like Cas was someone unknown.

Cas’s vision cleared and he saw Abby at his mercy, the commotion behind them lulled, quiet. 

The rage churning in him stilled, settled into cool resolve.

“No,” he agreed. “Not righteous. Just trying to make amends.” He slashed the blade deep and Abby gagged. Blood streamed from her neck and she slumped forward. Cas let go of her and she fell on her stomach, her head turned, her eye staring out unseeing.

Cas stood there. The knife felt too heavy and he dropped his arm, felt the pull of the blade to the earth.

It was done. He looked down at Abby, then up to where the sun shone overheard in a cloudless sky. The noonday heat warmed his face. It was done.

Awareness dawned on him then. He spun around to the valley. 

Dean. 

Cas ran to where he had last left Dean and turned, scanning the area. He saw James helping Mia to her feet. She leaned heavily on him, shaking her head. Eileen was making her way down the embankment, waving at Celeste and Bobby, who were leading their horses into the valley. But where was…?

He caught sight of Sam crouched over someone and his breath caught in his throat. He ran forward.

Dean's vision swam as he raised his head. Sam helped him sit up. “Take it easy,” he said.

Wiping at blood running from his nose, his head muzzy, Dean tried to remember what had happened. His throat ached.

He looked up, dazed, as Cas suddenly appeared, sliding to a stop and dropping down at his side. “Are you alright?” Cas asked, grabbing Dean's shoulder. 

“He’s fine,” Sam answered for him. “Just passed out for a moment. He was damn near asphyxiated to death.” He looked at Dean. “That guy was twice your size. If I hadn’t showed up in time…” Cas looked to the right and Dean followed his gaze to see the man who had strangled him lying dead on the ground a few feet away, a blossom of blood on his back. 

Cas looked back at him and Dean felt a flutter in his chest at the emotion in his gaze. All of a sudden, Cas grabbed him, wrapped his arms around him, and buried his face in Dean's chest. Dean's head felt strikingly light and he stared down in surprise at Cas holding him. 

He looked up to see Sam smiling. _I knew it_ , Sam mouthed and Dean rolled his eyes. But he couldn’t keep back a smile. He put his arms around Cas and pulled him closer.

“It’s alright," he said. "I’m fine. It’s over now.” He pressed his cheek to the top of Cas’s head, warm from the sun, and closed his eyes.

They had done it. They were alive, and the Marauders were no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Photo Source:  
> DeGolyer Library, Southern Methodist University  
> "Thrown"  
> Part of: Collection of cowboy postcards  
> ag1987_0642_017r_bronc.jpg


	13. Stand By Me

They buried Len in a small, overgrown graveyard next to a chapel in the center of town. A towering tree cast a long shadow in the late afternoon sun, and they stood there for a time before trooping back to the saloon to put up the horses and attend to injuries.

“I’m so sorry,” Dean said to James. He pushed open the doors to the saloon. “It seemed you two were close.”

“Len was a great friend,” James agreed, sitting down at a table. “But if he had to choose a way to go, I think he would've chosen this.”

“Well he didn’t give his life in vain, that’s for sure,” Sam said, approaching the table. He handed Len a glass of whiskey and sat down.

“I’ll drink to that,” James said. 

“How ya holdin’ up?” Dean asked Celeste as she sunk into a chair next to him.

“Never been better.” She gestured to the fabric wrapped around her neck and arm, pinning her arm against her chest. “The Marauders are dead, I got this makeshift sling.” She pointed at Bobby who was grabbing glasses from behind the bar. “He saved my ass, shot the guy who broke my arm.”

“Just happened to be there at the right time,” Bobby called. 

Dean slid his chair back to make room for Cas, who dragged a chair up to the table. He held a handkerchief to the side of his forehead and Dean asked, “That cut isn’t too deep, is it?”

Cas pulled away the handkerchief and looked at the blood on it, then shook his head. “It’ll stop bleeding soon enough.” He leaned back in his chair. “I can’t believe we did it."

The room fell silent. It didn’t seem real, Dean felt. 

Mia spoke up from a bar stool where she was bandaging her ankle. “Len wouldn’t want us sitting here with long faces.” She ripped off the roll of cotton and straightened. “We did it. I think that’s cause for celebration.”

“Here, here,” Eileen said and raised her glass.

Dean grinned at Cas and Cas smiled back, ducking his head.

They ate a makeshift dinner and drank. James and Mia talked about Len as they poured drinks from a jug in the center of the table. Dean watched Cas sit on the bar counter and talk to Celeste, his legs swinging in between the stools. He'd never felt such a warmth towards someone before.

“Have you thought about what I told ya last night?” Bobby asked, coming over to sit down next to him. Dean drew his attention away from Cas. “You and Sammy come live with me for a bit while you boys get back on your feet. You’ve been through plenty.”

“I think we'll take you up on that.” Dean looked over at Sam sitting with Eileen across the room, laughing. 

“I’m prouda ya boys, ya know that? You did good here. Your ma and pa would be proud too.”

“That means a lot, Bobby. Thank you.”

Bobby nodded. “Alright, then. Enough sappiness. I’m gonna shut up and drink.” He raised his glass and Dean clinked it against his own.

He looked at Cas again, catching his eye.

Cas smiled at Dean and slid off the counter. “Uh ya know what,” he said to Celeste. “I forgot something in my room, ‘xcuse me for a moment.” He looked back at Dean as he grabbed his coat and left the saloon.

The moon lit the abandoned town so that the streets shone like silver. He pulled on his coat and waited next to the saloon’s porch, outside the blocks of light from the windows.

The saloon doors creaked open and Dean stepped outside. As he stepped off the porch steps, Cas grabbed his hand. “I couldn’t wait,” he said, tugging Dean past the saloon, into the alleyway leading to the houses.

Dean pulled Cas to a stop to look in his eyes. “You did it, you killed Abby. You really did it.”

"And yet all I can think about is you.” Cas kissed Dean, making him smile. In the faint light, Cas could see the red marks on Dean’s neck from nearly being strangled to death, and, gingerly, he touched Dean’s throat.

“I’m fine, Cas.” Dean took hold of his hand. 

“And Len—”

“It’s not your fault, we all knew the risks. And because of you, no one’ll ever have to worry about Abby again.” Dean squeezed his hand. “Gabe would be so proud of you, I know it. You did him justice.”

At Dean’s words, a heaviness inside, an ache—one Cas had grown so accustomed to he hardly perceived it anymore—eased at last. For the first time in many years, he thought of Gabe without guilt.

Dean kissed him then and Cas pushed him back against the wall, stepped between his legs. He loved the way Dean grasped at his shirt collar, at his neck. He wanted Dean desperately, like he never knew was possible. He kissed Dean hard and slid his hand down the front of Dean’s pants. 

The sound of the saloon doors opening drew Dean’s attention away. He heard the saloon porch creak, then footsteps plod down the steps.

“Wait,” he whispered. He pushed Cas away. 

James walked past the alleyway, unawares, and disappeared down the street. When the sound of his footsteps had faded, Dean looked back at Cas, who stood a few feet away. 

“I think he already knows about us,” Cas said, watching him. He looked wary.

Dean had straightened, stepped away from the wall, but now he leaned back against the wood siding. His heart still pounded from the fear of being found out. “Are we that obvious?”

Cas laughed a little. “Reckon so.”

Dean reached out his hand and Cas took it. Dean intertwined his fingers in his. “He likes you, you know that?”

“Well, he’s not my type.” 

Dean pulled Cas closer. “And what is your type?” 

The moonlight made Cas’s eyes a silvery blue. “You should know.” He touched Dean’s ear, his cheek. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Cas pulled Dean off the wall and down the alley. “Come on. Let’s go somewhere where we won’t be interrupted.”

* * *

Cas placed his pack on Angel and led her from the stable into the early morning light. James and Mia were saying their goodbyes out front of the saloon. Cas tied Angel to the saloon’s hitching post where Celeste and Eileen’s horses impatiently pawed at the ground.

“Well, guess we’re off,” James said, coming over to Cas and shaking his hand.

“I can't thank you enough for your help,” Cas said. “I’m sorry you’ll have to relay the news of Len’s death.”

James nodded. “Where’re you headed now?”

Cas looked to where Dean was saying goodbye to Celeste. “I’m not sure.” He and Dean had avoided the topic, what would happen next. It still seemed such a shock, the change in their relationship.

“Well, stop in at Riverton whenever you get the chance.”

Dean hugged Celeste gently, avoiding her broken arm. “You’re gonna get one hell of a reward when you bring the law to the mine.”

“If they believe us when we tell them the Marauders are dead, that is. Me and Eileen’ll try our best, though. You and everyone else will get your share of the reward too, of course.” Dean started to protest and she shook her head. "Everyone deserves it. Still can't believe we pulled it off." She punched Dean playfully on the arm. “Don’t be a stranger, alright?”

Dean smiled and she walked off to say goodbye to Cas. Dean watched Cas turn from adjusting the saddle straps on Angel to greet her. _What now?_ he wondered. 

Bobby led his horse over to Dean. “You and Sam ready to leave?”

Dean rubbed the back of his neck. The sun's rays were already shining fiercely. “Yup.” 

Sam held the bit collar of Eileen’s horse as she mounted. Celeste swung up on her own horse. She tipped her hat and Eileen waved as they rode off. 

“See ya,” Mia called as she and James followed after them. 

Sam glanced at Dean curiously, then turned to Bobby with a question of how many days away his cabin was. Dean looked back at Cas.

Cas dug the toe of his boot into the dirt as Dean walked up to him. Dean rubbed at the stubble on his chin but didn’t speak. He looked over his shoulder at Bobby and Sam.

“So you’re going to Bobby’s,” Cas said.

Dean nodded. “Yeah.” 

“That’s good. Y’all get on well.”

Dean nodded again and Cas’s stomach dropped. He turned away, adjusted his hat. “Well, reckon I should be off too. And,” he turned back to search Dean’s face. “I’ll see you again, after you and Sam settle down ‘n figure out what you’re doing next?” It turned into a question and hung in the air.

Dean watched Cas with growing dread. He cleared his throat. “Right, yeah.” Maybe that was best, to not move too fast. They’d always have tomorrow. He felt sick to his stomach.

Cas grabbed Angel’s reins, then stood there holding them in his hand as if rooted to the spot. He lifted his chin to look at Dean and sunlight shone across his eyes. 

_I’m being a damn fool_ , Dean thought. He stepped forward. “Cas, come with me,” he said. “Or, or I’ll go with you.” Saying the words aloud filled him with desperation and he took Cas’s hand in both of his. “Please, it doesn’t matter, but I can’t leave you again.”

Cas’s heart raced. “You mean that?” He held Dean’s gaze.

“I mean it.” Dean kissed Cas then, deeply. His hat fell to the ground. He didn’t care that Bobby and Sam were watching. All else fell away. Nothing else mattered.

When they pulled away, Cas ducked his head, unable to stop smiling. He followed Dean’s look to his left. Bobby and Sam quickly looked away and Cas laughed.

Dean grinned. He still held Cas’s hand. “Come with me, alright?”

“Well, I couldn’t say no to that.” Cas smiled up at Dean. For so long he'd been so consumed by his past, by revenge, that he'd never dared hope for anything more...and yet, here Dean was, and Cas couldn't tear his eyes away.

“He’s coming with us,” Dean called to Bobby and Sam.

“Well after all that, I hope so,” Bobby said. Sam grinned at Cas. Bobby mounted his horse. “Let’s get a move on.”

Dean turned back to Cas, unable to pull himself away. “I love you,” he said, wondering why it had always seemed so impossible to say.

“I love you too,” Cas said, the words thrilling him. 

And then there was nothing to do but kiss again.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've made it this far, thank you so much for reading until the end! Leave me a comment to let me know what you thought or come talk to me on my tumblr :)  
> [tumblr post for this fic](https://expectingtofly.tumblr.com/post/190606923984/a-destiel-au-western-fanfiction-link)  
> and you can find [my tumblr here](https://expectingtofly.tumblr.com/)


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